On the wings of Madame Butterfly
by Mon36
Summary: Vaughn is married to Julia Thorne. She knows that she is Sydney Bristow. He doesn't.
1. Prologue

**On**** the wings of Madame Butterfly**

**Author's note: **This is my very first story. I started writing it a couple years ago, but never thought it was worth posting. Now, though, it's grown so much that I'd like to know what you guys think of it. Oh, I guess I should also mention that English is not my first language. I deeply apologize for all the mistakes I'm sure I made.

**Basic plot:** think about it: what if during Sydney's missing years Vaughn had been ordered by the CIA to infiltrate the Covenant and marry one of its top operatives in order to gather information from her? What if this operative was Julia Thorne? In this story, Sydney is a double agent working for the CIA; she was never brainwashed; she knows everything. Vaughn doesn't. He believes the woman he once loved has become the enemy. She will also become his wife. And the line between pretense and reality is fading, as thin and light as butterfly wings.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my cat. "Alias" belongs to JJ Abrams and "Madame Butterfly"… well, I guess "Madame Butterfly" belongs to Puccini – or at least did.

**Prologue**

I enter the house at six pm, my usual time. Some delicious smell comes from the kitchen, where Hannah, the so said maid, must be finishing dinner preparations. (We're having pasta tonight, I guess.) Walking across the hall and into the living room, I overhear the voices of my husband and his best friend talking in the library. Through the window I get a glance of the garden, where only a few roses bloom here and there in the early Italian fall. I love this moment of my day: its calmness, its normalcy, its innocence. I seize it, devotedly looking around my home, recognizing every piece of furniture I myself chose to fill these rooms, the ornaments on the tables, the picture frames on the piano. Smiling, I lightly touch the curtains. Those are the permanent and only source of disagreement between my husband and me. He claims to hate them when I know they are just his taste; that his frequent silly complaints about their fabric, their pattern, their color are just a pretense he has to lead, having to play this character who is not actually him, as I have to be someone I am not as well.

I shake this thought away, though, because arriving in this house every evening, I can feel, at least for a moment, like a normal person, a beloved wife coming home from work. And although this is a lie I carefully tell myself, it's a cherished lie that makes me happy in the present and that will keep me company in a lonely future. Soon, I know, I will need the memory of this beautiful dream in which I live in this pretty home with a loving husband – a world and a man that, unfortunately, do not belong to me, not for real or not anymore anyway.

Interrupting my silent thoughts, Vaughn (but for now he is Christopher) emerges from the library, followed by Weiss (Fred, Fred, I force into my mind), and greets me with a smile and a kiss. Weiss repeats his fake apology of at least three nights a week: "I didn't have anything at home and I love Hannah's cooking…" As always, I say politely but in a distant tone that of course he is welcome to join us for dinner. I'd like to hug my dear friend and tell him how much I actually appreciate his being here, but I can't let him know that, just like I can't let my husband realize that I love him more than anything in the world. So I return his kiss – this gesture I wait for all day long – with such coldness that it bothers him, despite everything.

More than anything in this job, I hate to act like this towards Vaughn and Weiss, but I need to. I can't be the girlfriend and the friend they used to love, I can't be their Sydney. She died three years ago, literally or not, it doesn't matter. For Vaughn, for Weiss and for the whole world, I have to be Julia Thorne: not the CIA agent, not Jack Bristow's daughter, not the asset who fell in love with her handler like in a spy-world fairy tale; I have to be this terrible person: a terrorist working for the Covenant, an assassin, someone they attentively watch and discreetly despise, someone incapable and undeserving of real love.

When Vaughan and Weiss came to Rome, sent by the CIA to infiltrate the Covenant, posing as Christopher Bailey and Frederick Peterson, I had been here for a little more than a year. By that time, almost two years ago, the leaders of the organization believed to have me brainwashed into thinking I was Julia Thorne. This was – has been – of course, a façade. I've always known very well who I am; for me, Julia is just an alias, a character I must play to get into the inner circle of the Covenant and, hopefully, dismantle the group sometime soon, as I did the Alliance. Only then I had Vaughan by my side; now, although he is here with me, married to me, he doesn't take me as his ally, but as his enemy. My handler, Kendall (who would've guessed that?), decided to keep my loyalty to the CIA and my double agent status highly classified information even within the Agency. This way, nowadays all my former colleagues think I am their opponent and the man who once protected and loved me take me as the means to a mission he has to accomplish: "For the good of the country you must marry this dangerous terrorist and gather information from her." I knew the truth of his intentions by the time he asked me out for the first time (as Julia, of course), but I missed him so much and I wanted to be with him so much that I chose to believe the lie and live the dream, be almost happy for a while. So he pretends to cherish me and I am his mission; and I pretend to ignore him and love him with all my heart.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter one:**

"Dinner is ready", announces Hannah. To Vaughan and Weiss she is just the maid who helps me managing the household, but she is actually our back up detail. Twenty years ago, her husband was a CIA agent. After he died, killed in action, no explanation provided to the family, she decided to join the Agency, hoping to learn something about his death. I don't really know if she did, she's quite elliptical about the subject, but the fact is that over the years she has become a very well respected back up agent, and as I see it she's been doing a great job in her present mission. We met soon after I got free from the Covenant and contacted Kendall. She helped me recover from the physical and psychological torture I'd endured for several months and encouraged me to put my past at rest and face the new life ahead of me. There was nothing else to do, she insisted. And she was right. Since then Hannah has been a real friend to me. Somehow she understands what I'm going through and, although I'm sure she doesn't approve of my what-I-can't-see-can't-hurt-me attitude about Vaughn and his true feelings towards me (she learned our whole tragic history from me in a specially sad night), she supports me the best way she can, making herself always available and supportive whenever I need to talk or just have some company. And besides that, Weiss has a point: Hannah can cook really well.

Before we sit down to have dinner, Vaughn excuses himself to get a bottle of wine. I invite Weiss to the table, where soup already waits for us. It's onion soup tonight, and Weiss is cheering: it's his favorite. I stop myself from laughing at the happy dance he starts to perform. Suddenly I find myself remembering Vaughn telling me how Weiss celebrated our first date with a happy dance. That night in Nice seems so far away, as if it had happened in another lifetime. I must be smiling now, because Weiss is looking at me kind of curiously. I need to stop slipping like this in his presence. It happens too often. Somehow, he makes me go into an unarmed mode that is quite comfortable but not good to my cover at all. I'm actually getting more and more concerned about Weiss finding out the truth. He seems to like Julia, more each day, and, consciously or not, he's been acting towards me almost as spontaneously and kindly as he used to towards his friend Sydney. Fearing to enjoy that more than I should, I invest all my talent and my strength into suppressing my laughter and my smile and faking the coldest of glares. Weiss gets the intended message, abruptly stops his not so gracious but certainly funny moves and quietly pulls my chair for me. At that I almost shake my head and laugh again: where the hell did he find this gentleman role? It doesn't suit him at all. Even Vaughn, who is just back from the cellar, bottle in hand, has wrinkles of confusion on the front and the shadow of a smile on the lips. This is quite a scene. Weiss gets out well though, with a "What, can't I be polite?" comment to which Vaughn responds with a "I didn't know you could, but I'm quite impressed". "Oh, don't be such a jerk!", I feel like saying, but Julia would never say such a thing, or even get involved in a playful discussion between friends. Too childish for her taste. So, I pretend nothing is happening, which goes just fine with my alias' cold behavior.

This breaks the good mood a little bit, but Weiss seems determined to have a nice evening and asks Vaughn about the wine. He chose a very good French chardonnay that will certainly go well with the _fusilli al pesto_ that Hannah has made for tonight. Vaughn is quite an expert in wines and I wonder, as I have some times before, if this comes from his childhood in France. Back when we were together – for real – I never took the time to ask him such things. I regret it now, not knowing so much about him… Lost in my thoughts, I must have missed something. I almost jolt on my chair when I feel Vaughn's hand lightly touching, almost caressing mine. Startled, I look at him, and he genuinely smiles.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." His head is slightly tilted, and he's still smiling. I feel warm and loved for a moment.

"No, no, I was just distracted, I'm sorry. Did I miss something?"

"I was just asking about your lunch with Cole. Did things go well?

Oh, yes, having lunch with a criminal organization leader who happens to be Mckennas Cole was great! Sloane had manners at least – I caught myself thinking more than once during that glorious meeting. But of course I can't tell Vaughn what I really think of Cole. Julia and her boss are supposed to get along quite well. So all I say is "Yeah, the restaurant was really nice and Cole has some interesting plans for the near future".

"Really?" – he wonders in a tone I came to know well enough. A tone that carries no legitimate interest or concern for me. All that this apparently innocent and harmless "really?" means is Agent Vaughn's devotion to his job. His mission is to gather as much information as possible from his criminal wife, and he makes sure to do a good work. It used to hurt me in the beginning of our relationship: that he actually believed thad I had turned evil, that he would even entertain the idea of using me, of deceiving me in this sort of Jack Bristow / Irina Derevko plot turned backwards. However, as time went by and I realized that I would accept no matter what to have Vaughn by my side, I started to dismiss these intel-interested talks he'd often guide me into as some sort of annoying habit of my husband's. Other wives complain that their husband leaves clothes scattered around or never does the dishes; mine spies on me. So be it. Besides, I have been lying to him too; I am certainly in no position to pass judgement. So I answer his question as if it had no hidden agenda: "He is planning to expand the efforts in the pursuit of Rambaldi's work. Apparently we'll soon have more funds and there might be some experts in linguistics and technology arriving. He's looking for assets." I can tell Vaughn is thinking exactly what I thought when I first heard the news: this could be an opportunity to bring other CIA assets into the Covenant and strengthen our operation. "That's really good news", he says.

"That's really good food" – adds Weiss tasting the pasta – "I need to come have dinner with you guys more often". Vaughn and I exchange amused looks and I know we are done with the "debrief" and set back at the scene of family dinner. It feels good.

After the third piece of lemon pie, Weiss pays his compliments to Hannah and says his goodbyes. I follow Vaughn to the library, where we usually spend a couple hours before going to bed. Hannah brings us some tea and Vaughn gets to his book of the week. It's Calvino's _Mr. Palomar_. I quietly wonder if he picked it for some special reason or if by now he's made the connection between this character and our present situation. Named after an observatory, Palomar sees things with such objectivity that he seems to be naïve, but ends up becoming the embodiment of a different way to look at the world and understand it. It's quite a lesson, I guess, to people like us, to whom the concept of real itself is cloudy; people who spend their lives trying to find their balance on the thin line between truth and lies, reality and pretense.

"You're almost finished with this one" I say, sitting by his side on the couch. "Yeah, it's a great book. You should read it too." I did, and I am quite sure he knows that, because I recall using that very book as a distraction in one of our handler-asset meetings in a coffee shop in LA; I'm not supposed to remember it though. "I'll borrow it when you're finished." "Okay" he says. He resumes reading and puts an arm around me in an absent-minded gesture. I lean on his chest and he turns a little bit more to my side, almost cuddling me. I close my eyes and let myself relax in his arms. He plants a light kiss on the top of my head and I trail off to sleep, wondering if he still loves me.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter two:**

We have a well planned day-to-day life, followed with such commitment by us both that it accomplishes its intended goal: keep us from acting impulsively, from being spontaneous, from being ourselves – Sydney and Vaughn – and not our aliases – Julia and Christopher.

When we were together before all this mess (me being kidnapped, tortured, brainwashed; him being broken and lost) our relationship was never too emotional, or sappy, or the typical chick flick romance. No: we were two people who were still getting started on their path together, but who already knew, without second guessing, that it would be a long and happy way to go; that it was it for them: they belonged together. So we acted on that unquestionable truth: with serenity and love, with tenderness and joy, we carefully started to build a beautiful life, piece by piece. We trusted each other completely, we relied on each other; I remember how we searched each other's eyes for answers, for support, for comfort, for love, and could always find it all there. We were there for each other no matter what; we were present, warming, loving to each other all the time.

But that was Sydney and Vaughn's life. With Julia and Christopher it is a whole other story. Maybe because he was never her guardian angel, or because she was never his inspiration to go beyond his limits; maybe because they are not only used to lies and betrayal, but to be the ones who lie and betray, they could never be sure of each other's love and have always been aware of each other's doubts. This should have been an unending source of insecurity and unhappiness for them. It never was, though. In the weirdest way, one I myself can barely understand, it seems to work just fine for their relationship: quite ironically, a very honest one, that is not built on promises or plans, but sustained on an absolute present apparently without further expectations; no questions asked, no requests made, nor to the past, nor for the future.

Julia and Christopher don't know each other well and are well aware of that, not bothering to change a thing about it. They keep each other company; they also provide some status to each other. Sure they share their kisses (but not the hugs Vaughn and I used to) and their moments of intimacy. Those are as real as real can be, but completely self-contained – they exist in that moment in time and they are what they are in the most tautological significance: a physical passionate act. They don't mean a long lasting love, they are not the promise of a lifetime together or a remembrance of a meaningful history. They're nothing more than routine events, natural acts that Julia and Christopher simply live through, enjoying their neutrality, their lightness. As for me, I carefully enclose each one in a long missed silver frame that my memory still keeps safe; Vaughn, I guess, summarizes all in his mission debriefs for the Agency. Our characters, though, simply enjoy these moments and themselves as the people they are: operatives with a terrorist organization; people whose interests in life have very little to do with love and family. They were, however, given the opportunity to live something like an idyll and they took it. Sometimes I envy them: their supposed innocence, their capacity for a happiness that is actually simple and achievable.

Maybe because for Vaughn and for me, the actors behind the masks, this situation is as perfect as it gets: it could almost, almost be true. Because if we are not Christopher and Julia, we are not Vaughn and Sydney from three years ago either. We're no longer sure of our feelings, we don't believe our relationship will live long, we may know that we've been made for each other, but we're also very aware that this doesn't mean we'll end up together. He believes I'm a different person, and a terrorist, of all things. I know he is with me to get intel. (I also know that in his "other life", that one going on in Los Angeles once a month, he is engaged to another woman, his real wife-to-be, but this is too painful to think out loud.) It's not like he betrayed me, or at least I don't feel betrayed most of the time, but he did leave me. I am alone; he is no longer my ally. ("Don't ever question that", he said once. I never intended to, but what choice do I have given the circumstances?) I love him, I have for so long and I know I always will. He might still love me too, but he expects it to end. We're saying goodbye, both of us are; that's what our small gestures of real love scattered and disguised among this everyday pretense mean. We're saying goodbye: I am trying to build memories that will make my life worthy; he is trying to get closure.

In spite of that or because of it, we follow our routine as strictly as if it was the protocol for a mission – a false one for me, a real one for him –, and keep under control the slightest things: the tone of our voice, the words we choose, our smiles, our kisses, our retorts during fights… He doesn't let show the memory of the love he once had for me, or the anger and the hatred he fells towards me now (because I took "her" place, because I made "her" become someone she'd despise the most); I take hold of my need to hold him, to just stare at him, to let his name slide off my tongue just to have him immediately turn to me in loving concern; but most of all I constantly pay attention to the automatic gesture of pushing my hair behind my ear: not to avoid it all the time, but to use it well, because it is probably the only thing that makes him forget for a second where we are and look at me for who I really am. And, as a miracle, there is something in his eyes that I almost think is love, and during the second it takes him to remember that I am not Sydney and that he should hate me, I found myself again, I am strong again, I am not alone anymore.

I know that for him these rare episodes represent a mistake he curses himself for, incidents to be avoided. As to me, though, little and secret demonstrations of my love need to be systematically hidden in between my distant and cold behavior. Hidden from him, from our friends (the real one, Weiss, and the fake ones, from the Covenant), from Hannah (who still thinks I only married Vaughn because that way I could serve as an alibi for some unauthorized absences or such things), from Kendall (who must be blindfolded to read my devotion to my husband as a devotion to my cover, as he does). So I include in our generally lifeless routine small gestures that could easily be taken as determined marks a good actress would create for a well developed character, but that are little declarations of love, so quietly proclaimed that no one can hear them.

When we are not traveling – which we do very often, of course – we're usually up early, both of us loyal, devoted officers to the Covenant, or so it would seem. We exchange morning greetings, he gives me a well calculated fake smile that doesn't reach his eyes and breaks my heart (because I remember other mornings, other smiles that would keep me warm all day long), and heads to the bathroom. I take my time rolling over to his side of the bed and enjoying the scent and the warmness his body left on the sheets (my need to be warm must seem almost an obsession, but during the months of torture I was always cold, and it stayed with me, I guess). After fifteen minutes or so, I unwillingly get up, mainly because it would be disastrous if he caught me hugging his pillow (definitely not a Julia thing), but also because I need to get ready and go downstairs to make him breakfast. I do it every day, in spite of Hannah's protests. I bake cookies and prepare chocolate chip pancakes for Vaughn and myself, always having something in hand for Weiss, who shows up for our morning meals almost as often as he does for the evening ones – "I loove your cookies, you know?" –, which actually pleases me.

We usually eat breakfast at the garden table, surrounded by one million roses. They are Vaughn's passion (something else I didn't know about before, but I'm sure to be real, because no one could fake such a devotion for gardening). When we got engaged and he first brought me to see the house he happily announced he'd bought for us (it was actually a deactivated CIA safe house), I was impressed by the beauty of the whole place, a typical Italian villa, but most of all I was amazed by this rose garden, which, by then, was beginning to flourish for the first time. I had gone so long without seeing beauty, pureness, life, that I was overwhelmed by the roses blooming around me. I think Vaughn was a little taken aback by the expression on my face, and in fact I was purely Sydney at that moment. A little uncertain on how to act – he could never have been prepared for such a situation with Julia –, he touched my hand lightly. Surprised, I turned my face to him. There was a hint of a smile – a true one – on his eyes and tenderness in his voice when he said: "I planted it as a wedding gift; thought they suited. They remind me of you." With all my training, I couldn't hold it any more: my eyes welled up with tears and I was speechless. I wish I could hold him, kiss him, say "Vaughn" in the tone I used when it meant not only his name, but all the love I felt for him. I couldn't, though. He didn't love me; he hadn't really made that garden for me, nor did he really care how I felt. Actually I had just learned a few days before that he – the real he – had asked another woman to marry him. I was hurt by that, of course. I was sad and I felt as if I had lost everything. But I wasn't angry, even if I tried quite hard to be: she could give him things I would never be able to: a safe and happy home, a family, a normal life. Everything I had wanted so much to have with him and now I knew I never would. And not because of his "other wife" (that's how I started referring to her, although I'm sure that for him I am the other, or not even that, because I'm not actually real), but because of everything that happened in my life, a life which I found out, in the most painful way, I had no control over. All I could have was a shadow of what I dreamed, even planned. So I took it. I became Julia and I was about to become Christopher's wife. Regaining my nerves, I didn't say "I love you" or "I hate you for not loving me"; I just went back to my alias: "It's a beautiful garden, Chris. It must have taken you a lot of time. I appreciate it". And our small moment was gone. I, of course, would remember it forever. Actually it plays again in my mind whenever we are here, having breakfast, talking or lying on the stone benches set among the flower beds.

Once breakfast is over, we finish getting ready for work. I apply my make-up and get the shawl of the day – I always wear one as I'm always cold, and I have many. In fact Vaughn brings me a new one from every single trip he takes. It's his present and, although I suppose he thinks the monotonous attitude of always bringing back the same gift neutralizes the lovely meaning of his doing, for me it means the world. Maybe it's not with his kisses, his hugs, his looks, his smiles or his words, but it's still him who keeps me warm. While I get a shawl, he chooses a tie. And then comes one of my favorite rituals: he stands in front of me, waiting; he doesn't actually look at me: we almost never look at each other and, when it happens, it's by accident and it always creates a tense situation; I take the tie from him, slowly set it around his shirt collar and do a perfect knot. For him, this whole scene must be part of the perfect husband role he plays so well; for me, it's pure bliss, because, in some way, in this tiny moment of the day, I'm taking care of him.

In the same spirit, I give my last instructions to Hannah about things that need to be done around the house, dinner menu, etc. and I'm finally ready to leave. We drive separate cars. Convenience is the explanation: "What if one of us has to go somewhere or leave earlier or later?" And in this case he is completely right. I need my own car to go to my meetings with Kendall and I'm sure he needs his to go see his own handler. So, it's perfect this way, despite our expenses with gas.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter three:**

At headquarters, we work right next to each other. That's supposedly why our relationship began, actually. I was still a new operative myself at the time he showed up at the doorstep of my office. It had taken me a while to understand that there was no way I could simply escape my capturers and that no one was coming in my rescue. It seemed that all my friends really believed I was dead. It was then, after months of physical and psychological torture, starvation, cold, loneliness and pure despair on occasion, that I conceived the only strategy I thought could possibly work: they (unknown subject, by then) wanted me to become this Julia Thorne, I still didn't understand why; they tried every kind of known brainwash technique on me to accomplish that; I would pretend it had finally worked. If it had taken me twenty years to find out about my dad testing of Project Christmas on me, they weren't likely to know I couldn't be brainwashed.

And they didn't. They believed I was becoming this sad and angry British woman who had lost her whole family in aa arson fire when still a child and had, soon after that, started her own path of violence. That I was given; the rest of Julia I created myself. In a certain way, I sympathized with her, I could relate to her pain, I understood her misery and her rage. And I used that as a passage to her, to becoming her: a cold yet not inhuman person, someone who had turned her injuries into strength, becoming unemotional, objective and self-sufficient. Julia really believed that she didn't need or want anyone in her life; that she could torture and kill for a living and it wouldn't affect her – because people wouldn't affect her. She had lost the ones that mattered and she had survived that. No one else would get to her; nothing else would harm her. Sometimes, as horrible as it may sound, I wish I could believe that myself. And, truth be told, I learned some lessons from Julia. I wouldn't have made it up to now otherwise. On the other hand, she got something from me too: she could be, at times, almost friendly, almost kind. Her Covenant coworkers (and Vaughn and Weiss would soon be part of that group) accepted it without too many questions (criminals can be polite, after all); Hannah and Kendall saw it as a trace of complexity that ended up making the character more believable; for me, trapped inside my own alias, it was a way of breathing.

So that's how Julia Thorne was born: an ice cold contract killer who had found the great opportunity of her career when becoming a top operative with the Covenant in their pursuit of Rambaldi and was, however, quite a nice person at times. That's how Fred Peterson and Christopher Bailey got to know her; that's how Eric Weiss and Michael Vaughn met again their supposed dead friend.

I had unexpectedly been signaled for a meeting with Kendall the night before our reunion and was quite curious about the news he might have for me. Not that I expected something great like going home: I was well aware that my job here was long term, that the Covenant was far stronger than the Alliance ever was. Still, something about that meeting was making me anxious, as if I knew before I knew. Kendall was waiting for me in the attic of an old church we'd just established as a safe place to meet. I had been there only once before and had hated to find Kendall waiting there as my handler. Although it was him I contacted in the first place, I had been expecting (hoping, actually) that he would assign someone else to the job. Apparently, though, I had become a crucial asset for the CIA once more, so crucial that the CIA itself couldn't know about me. My life, my status as a double agent, I myself had become classified information to the highest level.

Something seemed to have happened though, because Kendall looked concerned that night. I first thought it could be something about my father, but he assured me my dad was fine (in prison after having collaborated with my mother in an effort to find those responsible for my death, but safe). Then he told me: the CIA had designed an operation to infiltrate the Covenant and the assets they were sending to Rome were Vaughn and Weiss. This was such a shock that I didn't react at first. Kendall kept staring me down in his very own annoying manner until I couldn't stand it anymore and just told him it would be fine, I was a professional, I had been trained to deal with much worse situations (and to lie right to the face of my handler, I added in my mind). Anyway, there was nothing to do about it. Vaughn and Weiss were on their way, they would find out I was alive and would have no reason to celebrate it, because I'd have to convince them that I was evil. I went home with that great perspective, which kept me up most of the night. I must say, though, that for the first time in months, I felt something like hope. It was Vaughn, after all.

……………………………………………………….

That very next morning, when Weiss came in, I was alone in the office and far from my desk, back to the door, getting some coffee. I almost dropped everything when I heard him entering the room and asking Leonid Lisenker (a Covenant defector I had been working with to authenticate as a CIA asset) if that was the Advance Research Section (aka Rambaldi section). Well then, it seemed that not only Vaughn and Weiss would be around me, but they would be by my side, working under my orders. Great, I thought. Leonid (to whom I hadn't said a thing about the new CIA assets, not comfortable enough to trust him yet by that time) told Weiss he was at the right place and pointed at me: "That's Agent Julia Thorne, head of the department." There was no way out of this and I turned around. Weiss's neutral expression changed in the split of a second to one of pure shock, then some kind of amused surprise. He was stunned, I could tell, but he actually smiled, and I'm sure he would have run to me, arms wide open, if I hadn't, in a heroic effort to remember the strong surveillance in the room, simply said:

"Julia Thorne. Nice to meet you. I suppose you're one of my new guys." He didn't move at all. I walked to where he was standing and extended my hand. I couldn't be completely cold; having to lie to him, to smash his joy for having met his supposed dead friend was already too much. He blinked at the preposterous scene, but soon enough shook my hand steadily, still smiling (though it was a different smile then, a sad one):

"Fred. Fred Peterson. Pleasure is mine, Agent Thorne."

"Julia is fine, please. We'll be working together."

"We will indeed. I'm fine with that", he smiled.

And I actually smiled in return. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, I started hoping.

It was at that moment, though, that I saw him standing by the doorframe, so real, so handsome, so perfect, and doing his best not to break down right there, in front of his dead beloved girlfriend who apparently had returned to him in the weirdest nightmare, having become an officer with a terrorist organization; a friendly officer, it seemed, but an evil one as well, for sure. I stared at him. He looked hurt, and worse: guilty. "How could I let that happen to her?", he must have been thinking. It was almost as if I could follow his line of thought through the changing expressions of his eyes: "Why didn't I go looking for her? Because she was dead. Why didn't I imagine that could be a charade? Because I was too broken. She must have been much worse. How could I let her go alone through this? How could I abandon her?" At that point his pain was so evident I wanted to blow my cover right there, with God knows how many hidden cameras controlling my every movement, and run my hand through his hair, slowly and healingly kissing his forehead like I'd done so many times before. But suddenly his glance changed from the deepest sorrow I'd ever seen in anyone's eyes to what I thought was anger and disappointment. I froze. It was as if the guilt and the pain were too much to bear and he just had to turn them into something else to keep breathing: hate, despise; not for himself, but for the woman standing in front of him: for me. This was a coward attitude and he knew that, but it didn't matter: it wouldn't hurt his Sydney. He'd lost her to this Julia Thorne woman. From that moment on, he's hated her. He's hated me, because he loved me.

Sensing the increasing tension of his friend's impossible situation, Weiss came to Vaughn's rescue ("Who would come to mine?" I recall wondering.):

"There you are, Chris! I found our office. This is Julia, our new boss.", said Weiss, quite at home already.

"So I've heard. Hello, I'm Christopher Bailey. Nice meeting you". His words were kind; his tone was ice cold.

"Same here. I hope you like it here."

"I guess I will. Thanks." He didn't hold out his hand; I didn't either. I was relieved at that actually, being too afraid to touch him and feel on my skin the nothingness I was getting from his eyes.

Trying to impersonate the new boss and also detour my attention from Vaughn, I introduced Leonid as their colleague and pointed to the vacant desks in the room. Vaughn took the one by the east window, just opposite to mine, set under the west window; Weiss chose one right beside Leonid's. The two of them would soon become friends – almost real friends, I guess. As to Vaughn and I, we started then developing a bizarre yet peaceful relationship based on distorted and hidden feelings, cold glares and polite greetings, at least until his CIA handler came up with the idea that he should date and marry me to obtain precious intel, and he had to get closer to me, which was hard for both of us for very different reasons.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:**Before going on with the story, I just wanted to say a big 'thank you' to all of you who have been reading and reviewing. It means a lot to me. I hope you like this new chapter.

**Chapter four: **

Once more Kendall warned me in advance: Vaughn was about to approach Julia, this was his new assignment. I wouldn't believe it at first: that a CIA handler would suggest such a course of action; that Vaughn wouldn't question such an order; that he'd be willing to deceive me – me of all people – in such a cruel way. So my still hopeful mind immediately built an excuse for him, and I turned to Kendall with the tempting explanation I'd come up with: maybe, behind the despise his eyes could not always hide, Vaughn loved me so much, he loved Sydney so much that he had even begun to love Julia. However, if even to me this seemed a little bit too fairytale-like, to Kendall it was downright nonsense, and he had reason to think so: he had been keeping something from me, afraid of what it would cause me, but it was time I knew: eight months after my supposed death, Vaughn started dating a NSC officer called Lauren Read, daughter of a US senator. They met when she was investigating my mother's disappearance and the relationship continued even after he joined the Covenant. "After he found out I was alive" I mumbled. They saw each other on Vaughn's monthly break (that I knew he spent in LA), and had been together for more than a year. As far as Kendall knew they seemed pretty serious. "I'm sorry, Sydney, I truly am."

My world had collapsed so many times before that, or so I had thought: when I was six and Dad told me Mom had died in a car accident; when I arrived home to find my fiancé laying dead in the bathtub; when I found out the truth about SD-6; when I found out the truth about my mother; when I woke up alone in a Covenant cell and learned that the whole world thought I had died… but what I felt at that moment, when I finally understood I had lost Vaughn, was something absolutely new to me, that I didn't know how or if I could handle. I was alone in the darkness; I had lost the one person that had been keeping me from getting lost in myself. He wasn't mine anymore and I soon would start questioning if he'd ever been.

My expression must have been so desolate that Kendall looked away. I couldn't stand his pity, so I gathered the little sense of self preservation I still had, thanked him for the warning and assured him that I'd be prepared. He didn't want me to turn Vaughn down, just to administrate things. Vaughn and I worked for the same side, but we had different agendas, different plans, and I couldn't let him get intel that would jeopardize what I was doing. On the other hand, he could be used as an alibi on occasion. He was going to use me and I had to let him, but I was going to use him too – or so Kendall thought.

I arrived home late that night to find Hannah very worried. When I told her what was about to happen, she almost lost it. I had been through so much and now this. I think she could have killed Vaughn, his handler and Kendall all together at that moment, driven by some kind of maternal instinct. And her reaction actually made me feel a little bit better in the middle of the mess my life had become. I had learned to suck strength from wherever I could and Hannah's affection was a new found source, as, I'd soon find out, would be Weiss's – or Fred's – friendship.

………………………………………………..

I wore a deep green velvet dress that day, I'll never forget. It was cold and rainy, and Rome looked sad, not many people had come out of their houses by the time I made my way to work. He was there when I entered the office: gray suit, eyes one shade of green lighter than the velvet of my dress, as piercing as the pain I felt. He greeted me 'good morning' with a nervous smile. I smiled back, more into character then I had ever been. He offered me a cup of fresh hot coffee and I wanted to throw it at him, but of course I couldn't. I had to play along and so I did. All day long he was extra kind towards me and I was receptive. By the time I was leaving, I felt calmer: he had not made any blunt move, maybe things were to go slow. I couldn't explain why, but that felt better to me. It was too soon to be relieved, though. As I got to my car, I heard him calling me – Julia. I had left my shawl hanging on the back of my chair. He waved it in the air and walked towards me. I thanked him and made no move to get in the car. I knew there was no way out of it, no sense in postponing what was coming. So I simply stood in front of him, waiting for something I thought might send me to tears or to violent anger, I didn't know what to expect from myself.

We stared at each other for a few seconds. Out of pure anxiety I took a strand of hair behind my ear. And then it happened. His face changed. He wasn't Christopher Bailey about to ask Julia Thorne out. He was Vaughn looking directly at me as he hadn't done in forever, his eyes sparkling with expectation as they did when he asked me to that dinner in Nice, our very first date, such a long time ago. I couldn't say no then, I didn't want to say no now – not anymore. He invited me to drinks and I said yes, completely terrified, no longer of him as I recalled feeling at some point the night before, but of a new found feeling of happiness, so wrong, but steadily rising somewhere inside me.

He chose a cozy little bar, not loud at all, just some soft music playing, which is rare in Rome. We sat at a table in the back, facing each other, and shared a bottle of red wine. For my surprise – and, I guess, to his own – the conversation flowed easily and at some point I was laughing. He stared at me and I asked what was wrong. He said I never laughed. Had he stopped there, it would have been pure Vaughn, but he knew better and added: "You should do it more often." There was something serious, deep and tender about Vaughn when he talked to me in situations like that; Christopher, though, was flirty. I responded accordingly, with a sort of vicious, _femme-fatale_ smile. As if following a clue, he took my hand and asked me to dance. A little surprised, I realized that that would be a first. Vaughn and I had never shared a dance back when we were together. For the first time I thought that I might actually get something from this Christopher-Julia situation that not some additional pain. Maybe it would bring me new happy loving memories I could hang on to.

There was no dancing floor in the bar, so we just stood beside our table, its secluded location adding to the intimacy of the situation. He put his hand on my waist, his touch firm and warm, and I felt a long lost sense of safety coming back to me. I took a step closer to him, lay my head on his shoulder – my face very close to his neck – and closed my eyes, having found my very own place of hiding, my shelter, that one spot in the world where I once believed nobody could hurt me. I wanted to blurt out the truth, to say "I know" or "Come back to me" or "I love you", but I just couldn't. The feeling of being in his arms again in such a twisted situation was a mixture of comfort and sadness, as – I remember thinking – would have someone who visits a well-known place that used to be home and no longer is. I didn't cry, but my eyes were stinging and I felt small and weak. I enveloped myself in the warmth of his embrace, that couldn't, however (and that was another first), fight the cold emanating from some inner point of my body. I don't think he noticed how troubled I was and I'm sure that dancing with the former girlfriend who he had lost twice, first to death, than to evil, wasn't the easiest situation for him as well.

As the song was coming to its end, I got more and more afraid of the kiss that would for sure close that dance. There was no way to avoid it. The Julia I had built and shown the world wasn't a woman to put most thinking into kissing a guy; she'd just do it and it wouldn't mean much. Her denying a kiss, though, would most likely give the impression that the guy meant something, and my cover couldn't afford that kind of conjecture. I figured that the harmless way out would be getting into character as much as could, so I did something that would fit Julia's personality perfectly: I took the initiative, cut the dance short and kissed Vaughn.

It was our first kiss since that distant night when he dropped me home to pack a bag so we could go to Santa Barbara. Inside, I found Will almost dead in the bathtub, fought Alison Doren to death, collapsed on the floor of my bedroom to wake up days later in a cold dark cell. We never made it to our weekend away. When I saw him again, I had become Julia, he had become Christopher and everything was different. That's why I kept reminding myself that that date wasn't mine, and that kiss wasn't mine, and that man wasn't mine. So I kissed him, but in the most frivolous and unloving way I could – not only not connecting to him, but also detaching from myself as much as possible. Mission accomplished, I smiled my _femme fatale_ smile once again and said goodbye, covering a much necessary escape in what could be taken as an expected behavior of my alias. Vaughn didn't seem surprised at all when, already out of the bar and out of his sight, I glanced back inside and saw him swallow the wine left in his glass at one gulp.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter five:**

After that first date, I arrived home feeling ripped apart, headed directly to my room, no word to Hannah, and simply stood by the window of my bedroom for hours, looking at nothing, contemplating the void my life had become. If not having Vaughn had seemed unbearable to me at some point, having this non-Vaughn character was proving way worse. It was like lingering on the verge of the abyss, overwhelmed by its fascination and the pain it had hidden; terrified to dive in it and incapable of running away from it.

On our second date, he took me to the opera. We hadn't seen each other since the bar, because Cole had sent me away for three days, in search of a missing piece from a Rambaldi artifact he had just acquired. The first morning after coming back I arrived at the office and found a big fancy gift box tied with red ribbon lying on my desk. There was no one around and I was about to examine the thing with an explosive sweeper (with the life I lead, I'm entitled to some paranoia), when I heard Leonid behind me: "It's safe. Chris left it there for you." – he still didn't know the truth about Vaughn and Weiss and I could tell he was quite suspicious about my recent involvement with a supposed bad guy.

I let a small gasp escape when I opened the box. Carefully accommodated inside was one of the most beautiful gowns I had ever seen: black organza, long floating skirt panels, deep cleavage on the back. I wondered whether he had picked it himself… It certainly wasn't very Sydney style, being a bit too bold. But it looked like something Julia would wear and I had, over the time, over the aliases, learned to admire beauty through other eyes and other perspectives. And in this case it wasn't that hard at all. Though I'd probably never wear a dress like that had I just been plain old Sydney, I had to admit it wouldn't be such a sacrifice.

Attached to it there was a note in Vaughn's handwriting: "Wear me to opera" it read. 'Quite charming, Christopher' I thought.

"Like your new dress?" he asked from the door.

"I do, and it seems I'll have a night at the opera." I said, a perfect Julia smile on my face. "Puccini. «Madame Butterfly»."

My face fell. Was that a cruel joke? Was he trying to hurt me on purpose? Why on earth would he take me to «Madame Butterfly»? It couldn't be an innocent coincidence… I closed my eyes for a bit and opened them again very slowly, as if my eyelids lifted the weight of the world.

"Are you ok? Is something wrong?" he asked as I faltered for a second.

"Not at all. It's a beautiful sad story. I'm in." was all I said; and it was the absolute truth in every possible sense.

The whole day was a blur. Late afternoon I went to the restroom in the office and fixed my hair in a loose bun, letting a few strands hang around my face, completed my make up and put the dress on. It fit me perfectly and once more I wondered: had it been his or some junior CIA officer's job to pick that dress? And a whole lot of other questions added to that one as I got closer and closer to be confronted with a mirror of my own life put on the stage of the opera house: was that dress one he would choose for his real daughter-of-a-senator-NSC-officer girlfriend? Would she wear it? Would it look nice on her? Would it look nicer on her than it did on me? – and soon: did he love her more than he had loved me once? Had he really ever loved me? I felt tired and weak, and a very pale version of my face stared back at me from the mirror. "You can do this" I said out loud, having to tell myself what he used to.

He was waiting for me, looking all handsome, when I emerged from the restroom. "I'm ready" I said. By the way he looked at me, I could tell he liked the dress. "You look beautiful" he said and offered me his arm, that I took, and we left, looking like a perfect couple going for a nice night out. Even Cole, who was out of his private office talking to a freelance agent, smiled at us. "Have fun" he said in a sing-song voice that made me sick. I'm pretty sure Vaughn wanted to punch him for that, but all we both could do was say "Thanks" in a cheerful voice and leave. Weiss had driven Vaughn's car to the front of the building. "I'm playing the parking attendant tonight, Madam" he informed me with a little bow. "Have a tip for me, Sir?" he addressed Vaughn, looking all offended when he gave him nothing. I laughed softly at the playful interaction. It made me wonder, though, how Weiss felt about what was going on between Vaughn and me. He had been a good friend to me before my disappearance, and I believed he still was. Still, apparently he was taking part in this deceitful plot. But then, so was I, and not as an innocent victim exactly.

Our drive was mostly silent. Vaughn seemed focused on the road and I felt numb. "You're very quiet tonight" he noted when we could already see the lights of the opera house.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just a little tired, but I'm excited about the opera."

"Was your trip ok? He asked and I couldn't believe it was starting already.

"Let's not talk about work. Not tonight" I pleaded.

I guess he got the hint, because only months later he would try to make me talk like that again. He would go through my stuff, get up in the middle of the night to search my apartment whenever we were in there together and be extremely attentive to everything I said spontaneously, but he wouldn't initiate a conversation work related. I felt relieved for that, but more than once, when feeling especially bitter, I wondered if he was following instructions from a manual for spy-spouses. I needed to ask Mom if such a thing existed, should I ever meet her again. Whether he was being guided to be subtle or it was his own intuition directing him, though, the fact is that Vaughn devoted our first months together to lull me – or maybe I should say _Julia_ – into our relationship in a very romantic way.

The Opera House was full and I took sometime admiring the building's neoclassical architecture while we waited to be led to our box, from which we had a great view of the stage. "Is this box all ours?" I asked him.

"Yes. I wanted us to have some privacy."

"Are you trying to impress me? First the dress, now this… This date must have cost you a little fortune." In the back of my mind I wondered whether it was him or the CIA paying for this little extravagance.

"Are you impressed?" he asked in a hopeful tone.

"I am indeed."

"It's all worth then."

It wasn't his words, nor was the seductive tone of his voice, but something about his presence or the way I felt in his presence, something I couldn't quite define made me crave for his love at that moment.

I turned to the stage as the music started and the curtain opened to reveal a Japanese landscape. And as Pinkerton made his entrance, wearing his elegant American marine uniform, looking like the most strong and kind and handsome man on earth, I snuggled up to Vaughn, doing my best to ignore the behave-like-Julia warning in my mind, and felt that for the first time I would really understand «Madame Butterfly» – and that it would hurt.

In his tenor voice, Officer Pinkerton explained to his friend Sharpless, the American consul in Nagasaki, what a wonderful deal he had closed. At once, he got a nice house on the hills and a beautiful wife – a fifteen-year-old geisha, Cio Cio-San (or Butterfly). Pinkerton had bought her from a matrimonial agent to keep him company during the years he was to be stationed in Nagasaki. To Sharpless, though, this frivolous marriage seemed a cruel arrangement, for he knew Butterfly had really fallen in love with Pinkerton and believed their relationship to be true and genuine. Pinkerton, however, couldn't care less about the young geisha who loved him deeply. He proposed a toast to the day he would actually marry an American wife. The guests arrived for the wedding and Butterfly and Pinkerton got married. The night fell as they sang a love duet.

The curtain fell for the entr'acte and Vaughn kissed my forehead softly, in a soothing way, as if he knew how much pain he was inflicting on me. I leant deeper onto him and it occurred to me whether maybe, even if he did it unconsciously, his bringing me to «Madame Butterfly» was a sort of secret warning, or his penance for the sin he was about to commit. I said nothing though.

The scene opened again and Butterfly cried her husband's three-year-long absence. Sharpless came to her with a letter from Pinkerton in which he revealed that he had married an American wife, who he was bringing to Japan to live with him at the hills. Butterfly, however, didn't listen to what Sharpless was trying to tell her. She had Pinkerton's child and was sure that he would return to her. At that very moment, a cannon firing was heard: Pinkerton's ship had just arrived at the harbor. Helped by her servant, Butterfly decorated the house with flowers to welcome her husband back.

She stayed awake the whole night waiting for her beloved husband, but fell asleep in the early morning. When Pinkerton arrived, the servant told him how Butterfly had been waiting for him all those years. He finally felt regret for what he'd done. The servant, though, noticed the figure of a woman wandering around the garden and Pinkerton had to confess that his marriage to Butterfly had been a lie and that the woman was Kate Pinkerton, his American wife. The servant cried the tragedy of her mistress and just then Pinkerton realized that the only time he had been truly happy in life was living in that house with Butterfly. The once so brave marine ran away, not being able to face the woman he had hurt so badly and who, he finally had to admit, was his true love. With the commotion, Butterfly woke up and, seeing the woman in the garden, realized the truth on her own.

A single tear slid down my face.

Kate Pinkerton came in the house and introduced herself to Butterfly, promising her that she would take care of the geisha's son as if he was her own. Butterfly asked the child to never forget his Japanese mother. Then, she retrieved her father's dagger from its case, read the inscription carved on it – "In honor dies the one who in honor cannot live" – and plunged it into her own stomach.

Vaughn had been holding me tightly and I could sense his breathing becoming more and more labored as the scene came to its tragic end. When the curtain fell, I raised my head, which had been lying on his shoulder, and looked up at him. Our eyes locked and there was so much love and so much sorrow in the long glance we shared that I was in pain.

We woke up to our surroundings as people emptied the stalls. He stood up first and held out his hand to me. I simply stared at it for a moment before actually taking it. I knew what taking it meant: I was surrendering – to him, to our twisted fate, to my very own tragedy.

We never talked about that night. There was too much truth in it. To everyone who asked – Weiss, Leonid, Cole – we said the opera was wonderful. My beautiful dress hangs in the back of my closet, never worn again. Our pain and our fear lie buried deep in our hearts.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter six:**

The third date was actually a mission. The Covenant had received some intel about a Rambaldi artifact found by German archeologists somewhere in Namibia and they wanted to get their hands on it. The information we had was minimal. They didn't even know what this thing was, only that it would be taken to a research facility in Berlin in an operation supervised by Professor Karl Baumgarten, who happened to be spending one night in Rome for the celebration of his daughter's engagement to the German ambassador in Italy. The party would be held at the Embassy and it seemed reasonable to believe that the artifact would be kept in its high security vault. The Covenant wanted me and my team to steal it for them; Kendall wanted me to steal it for Project Black hole; God knows what Vaughn and Weiss's handler would want them to do.

I called a briefing quite early that morning to present the mission specs: the vault was located on the fourth floor of the Embassy, secured by three teams of guards. The access was biometric – the Ambassador's finger print and Professor Baumgarten's retinal scan. We'd need the whole team for the operation. Leonid was to infiltrate the Embassy posing as a waiter, so he could get the Ambassador's fingerprint from a previously set champagne flute he'd offer him. Vaughn and I would actually be on the guest list, as the Earnshaws, a millionaire British couple that owned a castle in the Black Forest which had become the bride's dream home. We hoped to have some eye-to-eye conversation with her dad, who would make an offer on the estate. Weiss – well, Weiss would pretend to be the bride's former boyfriend, who, beyond consolation with her soon-to-be wedding, would crash the party and create the distraction Vaughn and I needed to get into the vault.

I have to say that I was quite amused during the briefing. Whoever had designed that mission (one of Kendall's assistants) had a sense of humor. Vaughn made me swear that we wouldn't agree to sell our fairy tale castle, no matter how much money we were offered. Leonid pretended some deep sense of humiliation: why were Christopher and I the millionaires and he was stuck posing as the waiter? But it was Weiss who found a gold mine: with so many potential jokes at hand, he didn't even know where to begin. All day long, he would come to me with a new commentary:

"So I used to date an old lady…" he mused.

"The bride is younger than me." I retorted faking offense.

"Oh, really? And how old is the Ambassador?"

"He's… 64" I said checking the file.

"Oh, I see. My ex prefers experience…"

Arriving with Vaughn from lunch (aka getting their counter mission), he cried:

"How could someone choose an old Ambassador over me?"

"Oh, he's rich, dear, that's all" I said in a playful soothing tone.

And finally, as I left the office to get ready for the party:

"Hey, Julia, what if the bride really changes her mind and wants to get back together with me?"

"Well, I'll make sure that we have an extraction team in place, Fred".

Vaughn laughed and I turned to him smiling. "See you there", I said.

"It's a date!... The third", he answered.

And I went home reviewing my plan, but also wondering what he'd think of my dress.

On my way to the Embassy, I made a detour to meet Kendall, who would give me the last details of the operation. There was still no word on the artifact itself; it could be anything, so there was no way to fabricate a counterfeit. And, as I couldn't steal the thing in front of Vaughn, who thought I really worked for the Covenant, I'd have to give them the real artifact, study it, detail it to the CIA so they could make a duplicate and then, in a future opportunity, make the exchange. It would be fine, I had access to the lab where they kept the artifacts (many of which I had already replaced for fakes), but I hated to have to steal the same thing twice. Plus, there was Vaughn and Weiss. Apparently, from what Kendall heard, they had no counter mission tonight, but their handler too wanted them to check the artifact and detail it to the CIA so it could be replaced later by a counterfeit. How? Vaughn would use his new relationship (me) to get the codes for the lab. So, after the actual mission, I'd have to deceive my boyfriend who would be trying to deceive me. Except that I couldn't simply give him false codes, or he'd find out I knew or suspected he was a double agent. So, I would give him the right codes, but before he could steal the artifact I would get it myself. He would, then, steal a duplicate and replace it with another duplicate.

When Kendall finally finished explaining this _imbroglio_, I thought my mind was going to explode in frustration. My only comment, though, was that the CIA apparently had too much money: they were paying for three operations when only one would be necessary, if Vaughn knew I was a double agent. Kendall shut me down with a simple "no" and dismissed me.

…………………………………………………..

I was to meet Vaughn in an alley five blocks away from the Embassy. He was already there waiting for me, breathtakingly handsome in his black tuxedo, beside our ride for the night: a silver Lamborghini. I watched him for a few seconds before coming into view: "So I take it the Earnshaws like expensive cars, too." He had his head down; when he looked up at me I first saw the smile that Julia's light comment would get from Christopher, then something completely different: Vaughn gazing at me as if I were the most beautiful woman in the world. And yes, there was desire in his eyes and something I'd associate with pride, but I could swear I saw love in them too. It didn't last long, but it was there. I smiled a dimpled smile, which I hadn't been doing much, and he stood there, admiring me. Well, it seemed that the lavender strapless dress had been a good choice, after all. He broke our quiet moment – I'm sure I had been staring at him quite in awe myself – replying my comment with a strained "Naturally, my dear". Quite the gentleman, he opened the car door and helped me inside. We were off to the party.

The Embassy was filling with people. Vaughn guided me through the entrance, his hand lightly touching my back, its warmth filtering through the silk of my gown. In line, the Ambassador and his very young bride (I was sure I'd get another comment from Weiss, because it was quite doubtful that that was a relationship based on pure love) and her parents welcomed the guests. When Vaughn introduced us, the bride threw her dad a not so discreet pointing look and he obediently nodded. That castle must really have been quite a place and I wondered what it would be like to share a home like that with Vaughn, though I was sure I could voice the "with him I'd live in a barrack" cliché quite honestly. The Professor acted extra kindly towards us and suggested that we talked later. Easiest mission ever: the guy was eager to come to us. Maybe he'd give us the artifact willingly, just to make his daughter's dream come true. Not quite being daddy's little princess (at least not in the most traditional way), I found all that, even if a little sappy, quite touching. Actually, everything regarding fathers and daughters had been throwing me a little out of balance those days. I had been so furious with my dad about Project Christmas when I had first learned about it, but it ended up saving my life, and I couldn't even tell him that…

Vaughn's curious stare forced me out of my reverie: what was I thinking? Daydreaming and missing my father right in the middle of a mission was unacceptable, not to say dangerous. I had to get a grip of myself. The sight of Leonid at the corner of my eye helped that. Everything seemed to be going well: the Ambassador had just set the empty flute on the tray and Leonid would proceed to get the invisible adhesive it had on. Vaughn smiled at me and discreetly approached our partner to get the print. Meanwhile I saw Professor Baumgarten crossing the salon in my direction. A man with a mission, I thought. Poor guy, trying to buy a castle from someone who had lost all her possessions in a fire… Vaughn returned to my side and the Professor started to present his offer. Vaguely listening to him while I waited the copying retinal image gadget implanted in my contact lenses to work its magic (Marshall had come up with the thing, and, even if he didn't know he was doing it for me, using it made me joyful), I went from 'wow, this guy must really love his daughter' to 'I didn't know university professors made that much money' and finally 'who is this guy working with? There's no way he could afford this kind of life simply giving classes and doing academic research.' After a couple minutes I signaled Vaughn that we were ready and he reaffirmed our undying love for our castle to Baumgarten's complete frustration and we recoiled to a corner of the room. I didn't want to be very close to the bride when she found out her father hadn't been able to close the deal. Besides, the grand show of the night was about to begin. Weiss had just entered the Embassy and was about to start his desperate appeal.

Vaughn had to try his best to stifle a laugh at the first shouted sentences "You can't marry him! He is old… and I love you!". Weiss's speech sounded a little bit clumsy to me, but it certainly was having its effect. There was a frisson around the room and people started calling for the guards. Soon the vault would be vulnerable. Time to move.

"So, what's your impression of our third date so far?", Vaughn asked as we got into the elevator. "Well, great choice of place, good entertainment, no boredom so far. I'm impressed, Chris." He seemed proud of himself and, though we were deep into character right then, I caught myself enjoying the situation. There was a nice dynamic between those two. There, in that elevator, I started to like Julia and Christopher. I stopped seeing them as a corruption of what Vaughn and I had been and began to believe in them, for themselves, someway. To a certain point, what they had was real and I needed desperately to be part of that.

Entering the vault wasn't difficult. There were no guards in view – Weiss must have been putting on quite a show downstairs –, the print and the retinal image tricked the security system perfectly and we were in. A case the size of a shoe box lay on the floor; it had no safety measures and I opened it easily. Inside was a wooden carved device that seemed to be the miniature of a mechanic loom. "I didn't know that Rambaldi was into craftwork." I heard Vaughn say over my shoulder. I rolled my eyes at him, although it was Rambaldi I wished I could roll my eyes at. How many artifacts did that man build? It never ended… But Julia was supposed to be quite enthusiastic about everything Rambaldi related, so I pretended to be slightly annoyed at Vaughn's commentary as I closed the case again.

We left the vault and headed to our extraction point, at a side alley, where Leonid already waited, having finished his part in the operation quite earlier, even having the time to "steal" the Earnshaws's Lamborghini. Weiss arrived soon after, looking as if his heart had really been broken. "No extraction team needed. She chose grandpa, guys." They shared a good laugh and I smiled in Julia's distant mode. Inside, though, I felt quite pleased: there was no denying that the mission was a success (though it was just the first part of it for the CIA) and Julia and Chris had had a great third date.

Vaughn looked happily at me and asked if I wanted some company to take the artifact to the office. "I wouldn't say no to a Lamborghini" I answered. Weiss and Leonid were already discussing where they'd go have dinner, because "the rich couple who lives in a castle got to taste the fancy appetizers, but we didn't". So we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

I delivered the artifact to Cole, who apparently had been anxiously waiting for it and met Vaughn again at the front entrance of the building. It was after midnight already and, past the adrenaline of the mission, I was beginning to feel cold in my gorgeous but not-warm-at-all strapless dress. Before I could say a word, though, Vaughn was slipping off his tux jacket to put it around my shoulders. I must have made a 'how did you know' face, because he started explaining:

"I've noticed you feel cold quite often, and even on a hot day you'll have a shawl in hand, but not tonight."

"None of mine would go well with the dress." (It was the absolute truth; I had tried quite a few on.) "Vanity won." I smiled almost apologetically.

"You look really pretty", he voiced, and that simple statement, that sounded more like something he absolutely needed to say than a mere compliment, threw me back to the first time I had heard that very same sentence, in that very same tone: I was having dinner at Sloane's house and Will was going with me. At the time I lectured myself for what should have been be a hallucination, but still I had the gut feeling that my CIA handler not only was jealous of my friend who had a crush on me, but also dying to be in his place, accompanying me to a dinner party thrown by the head of SD-6.

"Shall we take a walk?" – his voice brought me back to the present. And as we walked along desert streets of Rome in the early dawn, I took a chance: "Chris, what are we doing?", I asked in a tone that left no margin to the classical misunderstanding wit; he couldn't go with "We're taking a walk", so he stopped, turned to me and gave me an answer that since then I've decided to take as a soothing truth. He said: "we're living; we're taking what life has to offer". I still don't know if that was Christopher telling Julia that they should simply enjoy each other's company without further commitment, or Vaughn trying to explain to Sydney that, having lost her, he still had to suck from Julia whatever she inherited from the woman he loved. The thing is that both alternatives ended up working for me. I enlaced my hand with Vaughn's and we resumed walking, my heart having found some much needed peace.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter seven:**

And then there was Trattoria di Nardi.

I had spent four days on an especially stressful assignment in Romania, searching for some old papers left by a follower of Rambaldi who had supposedly been able to decode the manuscript in which Rambaldi explained what exactly was the device Vaughn and I had retrieved at the German Embassy. Neither the Covenant (that had a copy of the document) neither the CIA (that had the actual thing, thanks to me) had been able to decipher the text. Cole was so excited about the possibility of unveiling another Rambaldi mystery that he kept contacting me twice a day. And Kendall did even worse, having come to Romania himself. So I not only spent my days covertly perusing the crazy dead man affairs, but I also had to detail every single thing to Cole on the phone and to Kendall in person before I could get some much needed rest every night. And then, when I finally found the papers they wanted, they both yelled at me, having found out that the man was a fraud and knew nothing about Rambaldi. Lucky him, I thought.

I was flying commercially on that occasion, which I actually enjoyed, because it gave me some sense of normalcy: arriving home after a business trip like all the other passengers that surrounded me in the airport of Fiumicino, some headed to the parking garage where they had left their cars, some hailing cabs, other meeting family or friends waiting for them by the arrivals gate. I was watching the particularly touching welcome of an old couple by a dozen of grandchildren when I spotted Vaughn clearly looking for me in the busy terminal, a single rose in his hand. I couldn't believe my eyes, I thought my tired mind might have been playing tricks on me, but then he saw me and opened his way through the crowd, huge grin on the face. He hugged me tightly. Julia wouldn't probably have liked such a demonstration of affection, but I did.

"What are you doing here?" I asked in a whisper.

"I missed you" – simple, direct statement.

I had to take a deep breath. He took my small suitcase and gave me the rose, a long stemmed deep red rose. I was feeling proud of myself for still not having blown my cover ('Does he know the truth and all this is his trying to break me in the sweetest torture technique of all times?' – I wondered). And it got even harder with what came next:

"Will you have dinner with me? I've wanted to take you to this restaurant that I love for a long time. Have you ever been to Trattoria di Nardi?"

_I had. A few weeks after the Covenant let me go and I contacted Kendall, who practically ordered me to maintain my cover, I left my apartment in Piazza Barberini one evening that I felt especially down and wandered around the neighborhood. I came right across the restaurant and entered it as in a ritual of sorts. Having dinner there seemed a tribute to what Vaughn and I had lived together and to what we probably never would, because we had been taken from each other. It wasn't a happy meal at all, even if I understood why Vaughn seemed to think that it was worth risking our lives to taste that food. I had fantasized that he was there with me, remembering our days of SD-6 and warehouses, secret missions and almost dates in Rome or Barcelona. By the time I started to think that I had been happy back then, with the Alliance standing and whatever, I paid the bill and headed back to the apartment, decided to be strong and to keep fighting._

"I've never been there. I'd love to." was my answer, not entirely a lie, because I knew that being there with him would be a whole different experience.

In the car, I played with the rose in my hands and mused around the fact that he still wanted to take me to Trattoria di Nardi. Plus, he had told me what I knew to be a perfectly honest truth: he had wanted to take me there for a while. I felt like the two lives I led were converging. Both of them getting a new sense, a new meaning, and Vaughn – or Christopher – was the key to that. I felt grateful.

The small restaurant was full, but we ended up getting a great booth, on the most silent corner. Vaughn ordered a bottle of a great Brunello and smiled at me. "You look so tired. Are you all right?" It could be more than a casual or caring remark, he could be fishing for something, I reminded myself, but it made me feel home, taken care of, loved. I could feel my defenses falling down and I let them go. I was going to live this – even if this was a lie – and I would put all my heart in it. It would be broken again eventually, I was sure of that, but I doubted it would hurt more than being without Vaughn did.

"I'm fine, but the trip was awful. Sometimes I get a little bit tired of Rambaldi…" (This was the understatement of the year, but Julia would never say she hated the Rambaldi obsession.)

"I understand." he said, touching my hand lightly, and I gave him a tired smile, a completely honest one.

We had pasta and lamb and tiramisu, and by the end of the evening I had fallen in love with Trattoria di Nardi and made Christopher promise Julia they'd go there at least once a month. We were walking back to the car when I realized what was the sudden melancholic twinge I was feeling: I didn't want that night to end, I didn't want to be without Vaughn in my always sad little apartment, but I also new that it was way too soon to let him inside. I knew what would happen once I did, and I wasn't ready, not yet.

He seemed to be following my line of thought, because as soon as we were in the car he said he'd take me home and let me have a long night of sleep – this was sensible; what came next made me give up for good on my initial plan of not falling in love with him again – "And I'll be thinking of you all night long, and tomorrow I'll be waiting for you at the office" he said. Who was I kidding? I had fallen in love with him a long time ago, maybe sooner than I thought, that night on the pier; maybe listening to him talk about his father at the train station, offering to help me with whatever I was doing; maybe when he told me he was my ally; for sure that night in Nice. I loved him through the disaster my life had become, I loved him at that very moment and I knew I always would, even if he didn't love me anymore. Even if he had come to believe that I had let my rage and my resentment darken me; even if he might not be in whatever it was if I needed him; even if he wasn't my ally anymore; even if now our dates weren't breaches in protocol, but sanctioned CIA operations; even if he had a real girlfriend at home and everything we had lived had been a lie, I'd still love him and nothing else would matter. That's what I realized that night and to this day I still believe it.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Hey, everyone. Thank you again for reading and reviewing. I'm really glad i get to share this story with you all.

And dear Brucasforever09, about Vaughn having any clue about Sydney's real "status", I guess for now he is just too afraid to even entertain the possibility that Julia is only an alias. She will give him clues, even if not on purpose, but for a while he'll keep blindfolding himself. Sorry I have to be a little mean... I promise things will get better, though.

And now, the chapter.

**Chapter eight**

A month after the fiasco in Romania, Cole came into the office one Friday morning looking happier than I had ever seen him. 'Not good…' I thought to myself.

"We deciphered Rambaldi's manuscript about the Loom!"

"Really?" Kendall would be pissed that the Covenant had beaten the CIA on that one.

"Yes we have. And you're going to love me, Julia." he announced with his creepy grin.

I glared at him. "Am I?"

"I'm sending you and Christopher to France on a romantic getaway!"

"What?" I asked.

"You two are going to spend the weekend in a 17th century chateau in Fleury, Normandy. So, do you love me or not?"

"Not" I said to call Cole's attention and distract him from Vaughn, who had just jolted in his chair. I knew he had grown up only a few miles away from that chateau and that he used to have picnics there with his parents as a child. I remembered him telling me about that when I had come back from my own "family vacation"/clandestine mission in Kashmir, years ago.

The diversion worked: "I love your attitude, Julia" said Cole sounding actually amused.

"I know you do" I replied with the fakest of smiles as Vaughn recovered.

"Anyway, the place is a five star hotel owned by Pierre Lanvin, who happens to be a Rambaldi dilettante. He's got something we need: the thread that should be used with the Loom. You're going to get it for me. I booked you, my lovebirds, the honeymoon suite. Hope you have fun. Oh, and pack warm. It's really cold there this time of the year."

…………………………………………………………

On my way home to pack, I dead-dropped a paper bag informing Kendall what I was up to. Half an hour later, my cell rang.

"Do you by any chance have a ball of thread at home?"

"Not really, Kendall, I don't knit – or have a cat, you know."

"Very funny, Agent Bristow. Buy one before you go on your trip and deliver this one to Cole. I want the real thread."

I had already delivered the real Loom to Kendall the week before that and he was anxious to put it to work. I wished I could tell Vaughn that not only Rambaldi but also Kendall appeared to be into craftwork.

The grin that thought put upon my face faded as I opened the bottom drawer in my closet, where I kept my underwear. I was annoyed by Cole's "romantic" comments about "his lovebirds" and I was worried about Vaughn, knowing that that mission would probably upset him; but until that moment I hadn't thought how the mission could affect _me_. Looking at bras and panties and pajamas and nightdresses, though, it hit me: 'would Christopher use that mission to take his relationship with Julia to the next level?'

We had been to dates, we had danced, and kissed, and held each other, but we hadn't slept together yet and I had no idea how I would feel when it happened. Truth was I had been avoiding that thought and trying to ignore the longing I felt whenever Vaughn touched me or even looked at me with those velvet green eyes. I wanted him to make love to me. I wanted to feel his eyes traveling through by body previewing the touch of his hands, worshiping me; I wanted to feel his breath caressing my skin and his skin against mine. I wanted to be in his arms and forget about the world, secluded in the love we shared. But I knew I couldn't have this. I was terrified of having sex with Vaughn because it would make me face another Vaughn: one that didn't love me. And worse: it would make me face another me – one that was not loved by him. And I couldn't stand being that person.

As I took a black lace nightdress from the drawer, though, I knew I had no choice, no way out.

………………………………………………………..

I had just finished packing (after going out to get a ball of thread, positive that that was the most ridiculous counter-mission ever) when the bell rang. It was the first time Vaughn would be picking me up at home and the first time he would be in my apartment. Hannah wasn't there that day and I actually felt thankful for that. Since Julia and Christopher had started going on dates, Hannah hadn't been a huge fan of Vaughn. I feared she would beat him or something like that. I let him in and went to get my coat, having a flashback to the first time he had been to my apartment in LA, the day after the takedown of SD-6. I had been so happy then. If I knew what was to come…

Some bitterness must have showed on my face, because he asked if there was something wrong. I quickly said no, trying to shake the feeling and giving him a broad smile.

He glanced around my living room and seemed to like the place. Although it was a bit impersonal, I liked it myself.

"I have a nice view to Saint Andrew's Church" I told him. He went outside to the balcony and leant over the railing.

"You do indeed. It's nice."

And then I added on impulse, not really thinking: "Yeah, and have you noticed my personal Guardian Angel over there?" I asked, pointing to the big marble statue of Saint Michael Archangel on the front of the church.

He looked at the statue briefly, then turned to me and I could see the pain flowing from his eyes. I think he actually stopped breathing for a few moments; he swallowed hard tightening his jaw; his hands gripped the railing to the point of cutting blood stream and making his knuckles pale. He stood perfectly still, looking at nothing.

I still don't know why I did what I did, why I had to be so mean to him. Because the fact is I knew I was being mean; I was using one of our dearest memories to get back at him. And for what? He had lost me too, I wasn't the only one in pain, I could tell. But the worst of all was that I couldn't do anything to sooth him; I couldn't hold him, I couldn't even apologize. Julia had done nothing wrong; for once, it was all my doing.

I took a deep breath, trying to swallow my guilt, and ran my hand down the side of his face. He recoiled at my touch and I felt like dying. I was destroying what we had, what we were. At that moment his having a girlfriend seemed irrelevant in comparison to what I had done.

As preposterous as it sounds, I was relieved to see anger starting to burn in his eyes. 'Hate Julia, hate Julia, hate Julia' I prayed silently 'guard our memories, guard Sydney memory. You _are_ her Guardian Angel'.

He recovered a moment later and smiled weakly at my fake questioning look. "Sorry, I have a piercing headache since this morning." His voice was strained.

"Maybe you should sit for a bit. We have time to catch the plane."

"No, we should get going. You ready?" He was trying to get out of the apartment as soon as possible.

"Absolutely."

He took my bag and headed to the car. I followed him slowly, hating myself for what I had done.

………………………………………………………..

We landed in Rouen, where there was a car waiting to take us to the chateau. The evening was chilly and a thin layer of ice covered the ground. I walked carefully behind our driver, who led us to the car. Even with the heating and wrapped in my coat I felt cold. Vaughn still couldn't touch me, what was stopping his alias to being romantic and holding me. (I knew I didn't deserve it anyway, but there was nothing I wanted more at that moment. I needed to be forgiven.) The road was dark, and sadness set around me, but then I spotted a sign pointing to Giverny. "Monet's gardens" I murmured to myself, feeling a pinch of joy. There was nothing mean or cold or sad about those paintings full of light and color. I smiled as I saw them in my mind.

"Have you ever been there? To the gardens, I mean?" came Vaughn's voice.

"No, I was never in Normandy before. But I love the paintings."

"You should see the gardens. It's a shame it's winter."

"I'd still like to see them."

"Really?" I nodded "Well, they will be closed for visitors, for sure, but it's not like we never got into a place without authorization before…" he said with a playful smile as I laughed.

"We'll go tomorrow" he promised. He hesitated for a second, but ended up putting an arm around my shoulders.

"Thank you." I said, meaning a lot more than he could understand. I was forgiven, as much as I could possibly be.

………………………………………………………

About half an hour later, our car pulled over in front of a very impressive building and the driver invited us to follow him inside. In the large hall, Pierre Lanvin (who I recognized from the mission file) welcomed us to the chateau. The housekeeper, who seemed to be a very nice lady, showed us to our special suite and wished us a pleasant weekend. As Vaughn closed the door, I looked around the room – or rooms I should say. The one we were in had a big fireplace where a fire had been lit prior to our arrival. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, the flames made the light dance in the room and the crackling of the firewood filled it with its comforting sound. Pastel blue colored Louis XV style armchairs were set around the fireplace. The walls were painted in blue and white, with a golden frieze near the ceiling, which showed a beautiful painting of an idyllic scene. "Voyage à Cithère" said Vaughn behind me looking up as well. "Cithère, or Cyprus, is the island where Aphrodite was born, raised from the waves at the shore. It's the island of love." I looked at him curiously and he explained: "My mother told me the story one hundred times." I smiled at him as he sat down in an armchair.

The other room had walls painted in pastel pink and white, also with the golden frieze at the top. The ceiling was plain, except for a plaster structure imitating a flower garland that held the soft curtains hanging around the bed, which had cream colored linen and many, many pillows. There were candles and flowers everywhere around and I was about to believe that I had actually arrived at the "island of love". It was a little bit over the top for me and I certainly wouldn't enjoy living in that place – in terms of interior decoration, I tend to stay on the clean side; having said that, I had to admit that for a romantic weekend the room was perfect; too perfectly, actually, for the situation I found myself into.

Trying not to panic, I opened the door to what I believed to be the bathroom – and it only made everything worse. Apparently the housekeeper had wanted to make a surprise to her guests. The bathtub was full of warm water and foam and I smelled the most delicious bath salts mixed with rose petals floating on the water. I took a very deep breath: I had a hard time not kissing Vaughn at the ware house when he was my handler, and it was a ware house, we could get killed for being together and I had never been with him before, not knowing what I was missing. What was I supposed to do in this place, while pretending to be Julia-I-do-what-I-want-without-thinking-about-tomorrow, who happened to be his "girlfriend"? I really had no idea, but all I could do was going back to the room where I had left him, lamenting that my mother had ended up not teaching me her meditation techniques. I could definitely have used one then.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"Exploring. You know: spy-sense." I said playfully doing my best to sound relaxed.

He smiled. "I ordered our dinner. It should be here in twenty minutes."

"That's great, I'm hungry. And it gives me plenty of time to take a shower" (and to get rid of the romantic bath, I thought to myself).

"Go ahead. I'll be right here."

"Ok. I won't be long."

I had every intention of getting rid of the bath salts and the rose petals, but I just couldn't, so I surrendered. I was nervous, sad, I felt horrible for hurting Vaughn the way I had that afternoon in my apartment, but in spite of all that I couldn't remember feeling more relaxed in years. I sank in that wonderful bath and lost track of time completely, until I heard him calling me outside the door. I was busted and I didn't think Julia was the kind of person to ask her boyfriend a minute to get decent. She would preferably pull the guy inside the bathtub with her. So I told Vaughn to come in.

"What are you doing?" he asked laughing in surprise.

"I couldn't resist." I replied with a seductive grin.

He sat by the side of the bathtub and offered me a glass of wine. I wondered if he too was remembering that night. _I had been upset about the firebomb and Sloane and Sark, so when we got home I went straight into a bath. He came to me with a glass of wine and caressed my face for what seemed like hours. I leant into his touch and closed my eyes, feeling so loved, so safe. It was one of the most perfect moments of my life. _

Lost between memory and reality, it took me a second to realize that he was actually touching me, his fingertips very lightly brushing my arm that was resting on the side of the tub. I gave up thinking and being afraid as I turned my face to him and leant over for a long kiss. We rested our foreheads together, breathing heavily. "Dinner is here" he said softly, and I was sorry that we didn't have an oven to reheat it.

…………………………………………………………..

Over dinner we actually discussed the mission. I didn't think it would be smart to try and steal the Rambaldi thread that same night. We hadn't had the opportunity to do any reconnaissance of the chateau, much less to locate the safe. We both agreed that it would be wiser to wait. I liked working with him, even though we weren't working exactly together. It was easy, it was comfortable and I trusted that even thinking I was Julia Thorne he would never let anything happen to me.

Combined with my very relaxing bath and the wine I had had, that soothing feeling was cradling me and I curled up in my armchair. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I remember is Vaughn carrying me to the bed. My eyes fluttered open for a second when he carefully tucked me in.

In the middle of the night I woke up to find him sitting in a chair beside the bed watching my sleep. I blinked twice, sure to be dreaming, but he was still there. "Come to bed" I said "we'll have a long day tomorrow." I lifted the sheets and crawled to the middle of the mattress to make place to him. He lay by my side facing me. We weren't even touching but just to feel him so close again was surreal. "Good night" he whispered, drifting off to sleep. "Good night" I said – so in love with him that it hurt.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter nine:**

When I woke up the next morning he was gazing out the window.

"Hey" I said sitting on the bed.

"Hi." He smiled. "It's snowing."

"Really?" I enveloped myself in a blanket and walked up to him, standing by his side. "It's beautiful here" I breathed, watching the snow softly covering the lawn outside.

"It is, but I don't think breaking in Monet's gardens would be our best hangout option for the day." He sounded very serious, as if talking about a real mission, and I laughed.

"Maybe we should think of a more winter appropriate plan." I pondered.

"Like cracking Lanvin's safe?" he suggested, this time in a so-what-are-we-going-to-do-today light tone.

"Well, it _is_ indoor activity…" I answered, happy that I got to have that kind of banter with him again. We used to have those all the time, even before getting together romantically, and it had always helped me get through the day.

In a more professional tone, he suggested that we had breakfast, which was to be served in the second floor of the chateau, and then went looking for Lanvin's study, where the safe was supposed to be.

Half an hour later we sat at the _Salon Jaune_ having crêpes and croissants and all kinds of delicious French pastries. A few couples and families were also there enjoying their breakfast. I took some time watching them. I craved their spontaneity and their joy, the normalcy of the life they shared, the love showing in their small gestures: a mom feeding her child small pieces of chocolate cake; a young couple laughing together; an elder couple arguing about something silly; a woman's face lighting up as her husband touched her hand. It seemed so right, they all seemed so perfect together... I glanced at Vaughn sitting opposite from me, absent-mindedly savoring his _tarte aux pommes_, looking so absolutely perfect… And I was overwhelmed, because all that I wanted in life, what those people around us had, I knew he was the only one who could give me that: a home, a family, the sense of having found the place where I belonged. And he was there with me, right in front of me, but still out of my reach.

As I finally stopped daydreaming and turned my attention to the _pain au chocholat_ on my plate, a woman in her late seventies approached our table. She politely excused herself for intruding, but she just needed to speak to Vaughn.

"I'm sure you won't remember me" she said with a strong British accent "but I was a good friend of your family when you lived here in Fleury." He looked at her surprised. "I only wanted to say hello. I've known you as a little boy and it's good to know you turned out so well. You look just like your father."

Vaughn was so shocked that all he could do was mumble a weak "Thank you."

"Oh…" – she continued briefly glancing at me and then turning to him again – "and you have a very beautiful wife."

"We – we are not married, actually." he said doing his best not to look at me.

"No?" she asked sounding almost confused. "Well, you will be; I'm sure. You two remind me of your parents. She looks at you in the same affectionate, loving way your mother used to look at your father."

Vaughn looked at me stunned, an inquisitive expression starting to show on his face and a mix of emotions in his eyes. I couldn't even breathe so I simply looked down. Just then the chateau's housekeeper we had met the evening before showed up and apologized to us, explaining that the old lady, who was a resident there, was starting to show senility signs and that she liked talking to the guests sometimes. I quickly said she wasn't disturbing us at all, which was obviously a lie. She was very kind and sweet and for sure we would have loved what she had told us had things been different, but at the present circumstances… I felt as if I had been made and Vaughn probably wasn't far from feeling the same himself.

"She is a very sweet person, but she sure has a lot of imagination." Vaughn said in a very unconvincing tone after the lady and the housekeeper were gone.

"Yes she does." I agreed, wondering what was really going on in his mind, for, if he had to do his best to make me believe that the lady was delusional (Christopher Bailey had never lived in Normandy according to his Covenant file), he _knew_ that she wasn't. Vaughn did live in Fleury as a child and that woman probably did know his parents. So, if he knew that that part of her speech was accurate, he would probably believe the other half was too – which left me in an extremely delicate position, because I wasn't supposed to have been looking at him in an "affectionate, loving way"; Julia wasn't supposed to look at anyone like that. At least he wasn't in position to say anything, which for the time being protected my cover.

There was still something else, though: I couldn't even begin to imagine how Vaughn felt when someone who apparently had known his family told him that we – he and the evil terrorist who happened to be a corrupted version of the woman he had loved and lost – were a couple so perfect that they reminded her of his parents. I felt honored, proud and happy. It was as if the Supreme Court had decided that I should be Vaughn's wife… – and not Lauren Reed – the least noble part of my mind added. He, on the other hand, must have felt trapped, victim to the darkest irony ever.

It didn't show, though, as he asked if I was finished and then guided me out of the _Salon Jaune_. Putting our plan into action, I asked the housekeeper, who was at the door wishing her guests a nice day, whether we could take a tour inside the chateau, as it was too cold for me outside. She immediately said yes and offered to get the estate administrator to be our guide. Vaughn declained her offer kindly explaining we'd rather do the tour on our own. She understood it completely and even apologized, probably realizing that of course the couple who was staying in the honeymoon suite would like privacy. She gave us a map of the building and excused herself.

The main rooms of the chateau were signaled in the map, as were paintings and sculptures of interest. Not being normal tourists, though, Vaughn and I were interested in the areas labeled "restrict access" or "private". Two of them seemed more promising, so we set our comms and split up. I was to investigate the east wing on the third floor; Vaughn was headed to the north wing on the fifth floor.

After one flight of stairs, I walked down a long hallway lined with old portraits on the walls. I felt watched by dozens of eyes and not quite comfortable until I reached a heavy wooden door. It was locked but it wasn't difficult to get in. It was clear, though, that that room wasn't Lanvin's study: it was his bedroom and I could tell he was there at that very moment, because I could hear the shower running in the bathroom. As I closed the door behind me, ready to face the portraits' eyes again, I turned my commlink on and told Vaughn I hadn't found the study. He had, though, and I went to join him on the fifth floor.

Cole had provided us with a device that supposedly could crack the combination for any kind of safe in sixty seconds, maybe less. I had been quite skeptical about that the first time I had to use the thing, on a mission in Saint Petersburg. I couldn't believe that if it was possible to build such a fantastic device that could be used to crack _any kind_ of safe, Marshall wouldn't have come up with it first. At its first test, though, the "universal decoder" had worked well, so I couldn't say anything and we were to use it again in Fleury. When I arrived at Lanvin's study, Vaughn was already setting it. The safe had an eight-digit code. The first six appeared on the decoder panel in forty seconds. The last two, though, didn't. Growing impatient, Vaughn asked me how long had it been. "Ninety seconds" I answered, worried too, because it was very possible that Lanvin would come to the study as soon as he was done with his shower. I stood by the door watching. The decoder had _not_ been working for about five minutes when I heard footsteps coming in our direction. Vaughn cursed. I left the door and rushed to the back of the room, pushing back on the wall the painting that kept the safe hidden and pulling Vaughn under the desk with me. I didn't have time to get the decoder, though, and unfortunately as soon as Lanvin entered the room it whistled signaling that the safe was opened. "It doesn't work AND it whistles?!!?" Vaughn mouthed to me under the desk. I would have laughed if it wasn't for Lanvin calling out security. Vaughn and I exchanged a look and he went to grab Lanvin as I got the thread from the vault. I found it inside an old wooden box, consistent with Rambaldi style. By then, though, three security guards were in the study attacking Vaughn and coming after me, and I was sure that more were on their way. The window was the only way out, but we were on the fifth floor of a XVII century chateau, witch corresponded to the eighth floor of a regular building; there was no way we could jump on a free fall.

Vaughn had taken down two guards and I kicked the other, who landed face down on the carpet. Lanvin had run away. Vaughn took my hand and dragged me to the window. "We can't jump" – I reasoned – "it's too high and we don't have any equipment."

"We are not jumping; we're climbing down." he said and opened the window.

As he did so a gust of wind and snow took us both by surprise. It seemed that the soft snowfall from the morning had turned into a blizzard. I looked at him worried, but he wore a confident expression. He held my hand tight and told me to trust him. He got out of the window and balanced on the balustrade. I followed him. We helped each other all the way down. I was freezing, my hands were numb making it much harder to hold on to the bricks on the wall and the snow beating violently on my face didn't let me see straight. I could feel Vaughn's hand on my back from time to time, though, and we finally made it safely to the ground. I was exhausted but we couldn't stop. Half a dozen security guards were coming out the chateau's front door. It was dark, the snow revolved violently around us and the cold pinched me through my clothes like a million needles. Vaughn grabbed my hand as he tried to tell me something. I could tell he was almost yelling but I couldn't understand a single word so loud was the wind. I shook my head and he pulled me against himself, speaking into my ear:

"I know somewhere we can go. Don't let go of my hand or we'll get lost from each other!"

We took off running in the middle of the snowstorm. I don't know how long we stumbled, the wind throwing us against each other. The guards had given up on us, but it seemed we were in the middle of nowhere; I couldn't see anything. Even Vaughn was only a blur by my side. At some point I couldn't feel my feet anymore. I lost my balance and fell to the ground. "We're almost there" Vaughn said into my ear as he helped me up. He was right. Just like in those fairy tales in which castles and fountains seem to appear out of nowhere, I suddenly found myself five steps away from a stone cottage I hadn't realized was there. Vaughn led me to the front door and entered a code in a keypad beside it. Not surprisingly, this unlocked the door.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter ten:**

I suspected where we were, but I was in no condition to ask Vaughn anything and even if I managed to I was pretty sure he wouldn't tell me the truth. He helped me through the door and practically carried me to a couch nearby. I was freezing and soaked wet. My face and hands stung from the long exposure to the cold and had thin cuts from the ice beating on them. A searing pain started spreading through by body. I was sure that Vaughn wasn't doing much better, but he didn't even sit down for a moment. After carefully laying me on the couch he put the Rambaldi thread safely away and left the room. I was shaking too much even to call him, but he came back soon and lifted me up in his arms. He carried me upstairs to a bathroom where a bathtub was filling with warm water.

"I need to take your clothes off, okay?" he asked cautiously.

I nodded, too cold to actually speak.

He sat me down on a chair, took my boots off and undressed me, laying my drenched clothes on the floor. Then he carried me to the tub and slowly laid my body into the water.

"I'll be right back" he said.

I held to his hand as he left and when he looked at me I mumbled a "Thank you."

"You are going to be ok." He said turning back and running one hand over my forehead.

I managed a weak smile.

"I'll light a fire downstairs and get some towels and blankets."

"O-Okay."

……………………………………………………

I felt much better already when he came back ten minutes later with a large fuzzy towel. He helped me out of the bathtub and wrapped me in it, holding me for a moment and rubbing my back gently as if I were a little girl.

"I hope you don't mind wearing these" he said holding out a pair of blue flannel pajama pants, a grey sweater and woolen socks that I supposed were his. "They'll probably swallow you, but you won't be cold."

"Thank you; they look so warm!" I sighed happily.

"They are" he grinned. "Get changed and go back downstairs. There is a good fire and many blankets waiting for you. I'll get rid of my own soaked clothes."

"Oh you must be freezing. I'm so sorry to cause you so much trouble. You should have changed first." I said worried.

"Don't apologize. You didn't cause me any trouble." he said sounding very honest.

………………………………………………………

After getting dressed I made my way downstairs. There was no electricity due to the blizzard, but Vaughn had lit a few candles around the room and I noticed for the first time how nice and cozy the place was. The stairs landed on the sitting room, where the walls were covered with cream colored wallpaper, which created a nice contrast with the dark wooden floor. There were two large armchairs and a matching couch, all covered in light peach suede, set around a big stone fireplace. A pile of blankets lay on the floor. A wooden rocking chair and a side table sat on a farther corner completing the homey atmosphere. In the adjacent dinning room the walls were a light shade of green; a wooden table with six seats was all the furniture in there. Both rooms had big windows with heavy curtains.

A door on the back of the dinning room opened to a hallway. Taking a candle, I walked along it and opened the first door to the left: it was a very soberly decorated study, with a heavy desk, leather chairs and many shelves filled with books; opposite to it I found a big room with soft pink papered walls, a grand piano to the center and two armchairs to the side; the last door revealed a big kitchen, lined with wooden cupboards, where I could imagine wonderful family meals being cooked.

There was a kettle on the stove and I heated some water to make Vaughn and I some tea, figuring it would help us getting warm. I retrieved two cups from one of the cupboards, where I also found some Darjeeling tea, which I knew was Vaughn's favorite. When he came down he found me pouring the tea into our cups and I could tell he was surprised.

"You were supposed to be lying down under a lot of blankets, Miss…" he softly scolded me as I handed him his cup "but tea was a great idea." He concluded with a smile.

"Thank you" I said walking to the sitting room and wrapping myself in two blankets as I sat on the couch opposite to the fireplace, bringing my legs up. Vaughn went to sit on an armchair but I told him we could share the couch, where it was warmer. He took a blanket for himself and sat on the other end of the piece, facing me. It wasn't a very large couch and we were almost touching. A comfortable silence sat between us as we sipped our tea.

"This was my family home" he said softly after we had been quiet for a few minutes. It took me by surprise. I had already figured that that was his childhood home, but I didn't expect him to tell _Julia_ that.

"Really? I didn't know you had lived in France. You never said anything…"

"My mother was born in Rouen. My parents and I lived between here and the States until I was eight." he explained.

'Until my mother killed your father.' I completed in my mind, and for once I was glad I didn't have to be Sydney Bristow.

"Is the house still yours?" I asked.

"Yes. My father died soon after we moved to America for good, but my mother and I never wanted to sell this house. It was our home."

"I'm sorry about your dad…" I said, already sensing the sadness that subject always brought to Vaughn – who was very much himself at that moment. "The house is beautiful and you must have been a wonderful family." I added trying to keep the emotion and the guilt away from my voice, as I imagined how nice it must have been living in that house as a family. I could almost picture Bill Vaughn working in his study listening to his wife playing the piano across the hallway while his little son asked him a thousand questions about the CIA and teased him for keeping a diary.

"We were." he agreed quietly.

I didn't know what to say. I wanted to lean over and hold him tightly, whispering soothing words into his ear, pressing soft kisses on his forehead, but it would be _really_ out of character, so I repeated my gesture of years before in a similar situation: that night on the pier, after he told me in many words that I wasn't alone, that I could always count on him, I wanted to give him a hug, but all I could do was squeeze his hand.

As I laid my hand on his, which was resting on his knee, he looked up at me, brought out of his reverie.

"I'm sorry I brought this up. It's just that I love this place but it's not easy coming back here."

"Don't apologize. I understand. I take it you don't come here very often, right?"

"I didn't for many years. My father's death was very hard on me and this house holds too many memories of him.

I nodded my head sympathetically, oblivious to what would come next.

"Then, almost two years ago, something happened to me…" – he faltered for a few seconds and I held my breath – "I lost someone I loved very much and I wanted to come here."

I felt a lump in my throat and had to fight back tears.

"She was my girlfriend and although we hadn't been together for a long time I think I thought of her as my future wife from the very beginning. I imagined us being together here, the place I had always considered my home. Then she was gone and I wanted to bring my memories of us to this house."

I swallowed hard as he took a deep breath. I myself had fantasized about having a life and a family with Vaughn, and I had cried over my lost dream, but hearing him talk about me in that way and in that house that meant so much to him was an impossible situation. The words the old lady had said to us that morning in the chateau echoed in my mind and I figured how much they must have hurt Vaughn.

"But when I got here all I found was an empty house. So I would stay up drinking all night long, until I could _see_ her sitting here reading a book, or cooking something in the kitchen; or I could _hear_ her talking to me; or I could _feel_ her kissing me… It would all fade away eventually, though, and only the void she had left remained."

I tightened my grip on his hand. My whole body was shaking and I knew it wasn't from the cold.

"Julia" – he said in a strained voice, startling me a bit, for he almost never used the name – "will you come to bed with me?" – he paused for a second and I was completely frozen – "It's just… I need to feel something that is not this emptiness and this sorrow. Please?"

I stared at him trying to steady my nerves and my voice. "Yes."

He stood up letting the blanket fall down on the floor and leant over me, unwrapping my blankets as well. His movements were firm and determined, but still kind. He put one arm under my thigh, sustaining my back with the other, and lifted me from the couch. I put my own arms around his neck as he carried me upstairs and inside a bedroom. He laid me on the bed and we locked our eyes as he leant in to kiss me. And I knew that in that moment it was not only Julia Thorne he was kissing; Sydney was there too; he believed it somehow as we lay down holding each other closely, healing our wounds, making love to each other.

Fragments of that night will be embedded in my memory for as long as I shall live: his hands on my waist, his fingers combing through my hair, his soft kisses on my neck, the warmth of his body on mine, the softness of his skin, his whispering into my ear, the plenitude and the happiness I felt.

We fell asleep in each other's arms. When I woke up the next morning Vaughn breathed peacefully beside me. The snowstorm had dissipated and through the window I could see a deep blue sky above the white land. Vaughn stirred and opened his eyes. I smiled at him and he smiled back. I could tell he was seeing Julia – and only Julia – in front of him, but his eyes were still kind. 'Much more than a cold-blooded terrorist could expect from a CIA agent…' I thought silently.

………………………………………………….

We arrived back in Rome late that Sunday night. The phone in Vaughn's cottage had died because of the snowstorm, we didn't have our cells and the roads were blocked, so we had to make it to Fleury on foot. It should be a fifteen-minute walk under normal circumstances, but with all that snow on the ground it took us more than an hour. Vaughn kept some money in the cottage, which was lucky, because we had to pay for our ride to the airport in Rouen and also buy two tickets to Rome, since ours were still in the chateau, where we couldn't go back. A contact from the Covenant provided us with new passports, but not with the clothes I had kindly asked him to bring to the airport – my pants and blouse from the eve hadn't dried in time, so I had to wear Vaughn's clothes (the flannel pajama pants and the gray sweater, plus a woolen coat) all the way home. In addition to all that, I hadn't been able to switch the Rambaldi thread for the one I had bought, so I had to do it on the plane, with Vaughn sleeping peacefully beside me while I counter crossed him, which made me feel awful.

But when he kissed me goodnight by the door of my apartment all I could think about was the previous night, and for once I had a smile on my face while entering that place.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter eleven:**

We were late that morning but I didn't really care. Vaughn had spent the night in my apartment and though he probably had copied some files from my laptop while I was asleep, all I could feel was a deep sense of relief and something close enough to happiness for having him back in my life. Since the weekend we spent in Fleury, almost three months before, not even a shadow of regret had crossed my mind, and although the idea of Lauren Reed would eventually come haunting me, she wasn't more than a name, than a concept to me. I needed Vaughn for as long as I could have him, however I could have him and I had decided to enjoy our time together the best I could.

Having him by my side made everything better. My missions went smoothly, Kendall was happier about my work, I felt more confident. I felt ready to face the world again. Vaughn was a shield against the evil and the madness that surrounded me and a shelter from the darkness and the sadness that threatened to drown me. He made me stronger and he made me happy.

Even Hannah, who had been so skeptical about that pretense of a relationship, had to admit that Vaughn was doing me some good (even if he wasn't exactly Vaughn and I wasn't exactly me), and after meeting him for the first time she let her defenses down for good. I introduced them soon after we came back from Fleury. She made dinner for us in my apartment one evening and for a week I heard compliments to her kindness and to her food from him and got understanding smiles from her.

In theory, our blossoming relationship might have been a façade, but it brought so much joy to my life that I actually didn't care. The emptiness I constantly felt was gone, my lonely sad days and nights were over. And for the time being, that was enough.

Leonid, though, didn't have such a lifted spirit when I entered the office that morning. He grunted in response to my greeting and looked at me with some kind of ill expression. It worried me; I had actually come to like him over those last few months: he had a dry and sarcastic personality that reminded me of my father in some way. I had also learned that it didn't prevent him from caring about me. We ended up becoming sort of friends and at that point I felt that I knew him quite well. That's why I immediately intuited what had happened; there was only one thing that could make him look so miserable: talking to Kendall. They didn't interact much, I usually acted as Leonid's contact to the CIA, but apparently something was going on. So I told Leonid to accompany me to the archives while Vaughn and Weiss finished a report.

We walked down the long hallway leading to the back of the building and entered a dusty room full of old KGB files about Rambaldi and his followers. I closed the door behind me and set the eavesdrop device in my watch (another gift Marshall had made for "Kendall's secret agent").

"We have ninety seconds, Leonid. Has Director Kendall contacted you?"

"Unfortunately" he grunted "He had a message for you and couldn't contact you directly because you were with Chris. Anyway, he needs to meet with you today, by noon, at the church."

"Did he tell you what this is about?"

"Sydney… Director Kendall might be nice towards you, but the man treats me like scum. Of course he didn't tell me anything."

"Sorry, Leonid. Thanks for the message. We should go back."

……………………………………………………...

I really didn't want to see Kendall that day. Leonid wasn't wrong, he was nice to me, but he was still Kendall… He had sent me a message through Leonid, though, which wasn't routine, and it wasn't like I would say to my handler: "No, I won't see you today, I'm not in the mood". So I left the office right in the middle of the day, saying I had to run some errands.

"Right now?" – Vaughn asked with his brow furrowed – "I thought we were having lunch together." He seemed truly upset and not worried to show it at all.

Watching his reaction, I wondered whether he was actually growing attached to Julia, and, though I was sure this wasn't a good thing thinking long term (I didn't and don't want him to be in pain from missing me when this is over), the possibility made me selfishly very happy. For a second, I considered standing Kendall up, but Leonid gave me such a glare that I quickly apologized to Vaughn saying that I had some urgent things to do. He nodded his head begrudgingly, probably not understanding his own reason for getting so upset with my absence at lunch. I left silently cursing Kendall.

He really had a reason to call that meeting, though, and it wasn't good news at all. Sloane's trial, that after two years of wait had finally been going on for two months already – not surprisingly, considered the amount and the enormity of his crimes – was taking an unexpected turn: it seemed that the NSC was willing to grant the bastard a pardon agreement in exchange for his cooperation. I heard that in shock and even Kendall seemed really furious. Those days, the NSC seemed to be a much bigger problem in my life than the Covenant: they put my father in jail for something he only did because he loved me; Lauren Reed worked for them and that was how she got to Vaughn; and now they were considering to set free a horrible man who had betrayed his country and good people who thought they were working for its safety; a man who had destroyed lives and families, who had taken so much from me.

Anyway, Kendall thought I deserved to be aware of what was going on, as I had worked so hard and for so long fighting the Alliance and Sloane. He also wanted some information that he couldn't find on mine or Vaughn's archives on SD-6 that might help the prosecution. I told him what he wanted to know, asked about Dixon and Marshall – who was about to become a dad – and went back to the office.

Vaughn was alone in the room working at his desk when I arrived. I stopped at the doorframe and just watched him. Seeing him there I felt how unfair it would be if Sloane got free with everything he had done. The two of us had gone through so much to bring him to Justice, and he would be all nice and dandy while we were stuck in there, pretending to be other people, lives on halt, and for what? Maybe we would succeed in taking the Covenant down just like we did the Alliance; maybe we would bring McKennas Cole to Justice like we did Sloane, but then what? Would he get a pardon agreement too? Then why were we sabotaging missions, running counter-missions, lying to each other, risking our lives on a daily basis? As soon as that though crossed my mind I reprimanded myself, though: I was doing all that because it meant saving lives, it meant making the world a safer place. And that had to be enough. As Vaughn had said to me years ago, talking about a similar situation – only then the traitor who had been granted a pardon agreement was my mother – one who joins the CIA shouldn't do it expecting fairness.

"Do you think we could still have lunch?" I asked from the door.

He turned to me with a big grin, got his wallet and car keys. "Of course." he said walking towards me. As we walked out of the building, I slid my hand into his and held it tightly. We were losing our battle against Sloane and I needed to know that somehow I still had my ally by my side.

………………………………………………………..

A week later I was on my way to work when my cell rang. "He got it." – was all Kendall said and the line went dead. I felt so frustrated and so angry… I parked my car at the parking garage level of the Covenant headquarters but couldn't build enough courage to go up to the office. I had been sitting in the car for about ten minutes when I heard another car pull over and two doors be roughly shut. At the rearview mirror I could see Vaughn's and Weiss's reflections. They seemed to be arguing about something. I slid down in the car seat so they couldn't see me on the way to the elevator.

"I can't believe that bastard got a pardon agreement! The world is turned upside-down!" – that was Weiss.

"Lauren thinks he could be useful." Vaughn answered.

"Laur–Lauren?!? You mean Lauren your girlfriend?!?"

"She is part of the team setting the agreement. And she will be Sloane's contact."

"No way! Do you agree with her? Do _you_ think Sloane should be pardoned?"

Vaughn didn't answer immediately and I was about to get out of my car, blow my cover and yell at him: that he had been the best handler in the world just to betray his asset when she needed him the most; that he had abandoned me to be with a stupid woman who was helping Sloane get free; that I hated myself for loving him so much when he clearly didn't love me back and probably never had. My fingers were already touching the doorknob when I heard him again.

"No, Eric, of course I don't." His tone was completely different from the beginning of the conversation. "Sydney fought so much to bring SD-6 down, to destroy Sloane… She lost her life for that…"

"Not exactly…"

"Julia is not Sydney." he said with the determination of one who tried to convince himself.

"Well…"

"No! Julia is not Sydney! Julia is a terrorist and a cold-blooded killer! Julia is NOT Sydney." – he made a pause – "and for the first time I'm thankful for that. I'm relieved that Sydney can't see what we let happen after she died. She was so strong, she never gave up, she was the best of us all, and she made all of us better than we could possibly be. And after she dies the NSC throws her father in jail and no one gives a damn, the CIA is willing to pardon Arvin Sloane and take him as a consultant, and her former handler who became her boyfriend is dating the woman who set this agreement… You want to know how I feel about this, Eric? I am ashamed. And I finally understand the reason why I lost her: I didn't deserve her; none of us did." His voice was so strained in the end that I could barely understand the last words.

"Okay…" Eric said very slowly. "Since the wound is open and after months I recognize you again, may I ask how your relationship with Julia comes into the puzzle?"

"I don't have an answer to that." He answered after a short silence. "I don't want to think about Julia. She is my assignment. Christopher is in a relationship with her; I'm not. Lauren is my girlfriend. And I may not share her opinion about Sloane, but she is only doing her job. It would be unfair for me to be mad at her. She can't possibly understand anything about Sydney and me, what we did, what we had, what we were. She is not betraying Sydney."

"And you… are not?" Weiss asked.

"I'm not the man she loved anymore. She wouldn't love the man I am now." Vaughn said quietly.

'You're so wrong…' I murmured inside my car.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter twelve:**

On his first month as a consultant for the US Government, Sloane helped the CIA dismantle a dozen terrorist groups. I could tell that even Kendall was beginning to believe he had turned. I knew that man too well, though; I was sure he was playing the CIA and making its agents and its resources pawns in his game. His next move seemed so ridiculous to me that I couldn't believe when everyone bought it as a final proof of redemption: Sloane founded a world relief organization. The terrorist had turned into a humanitarian. It was so preposterous…

I watched his first speech as a "new man" as he called himself; it was broadcast live from the Omnifam building in Zurich. Vaughn and I were together at his apartment, because Christopher and Julia were having a nice homemade dinner that evening. Vaughn was watching the finals of the European Champions Hockey League on TV. We had just finished dessert when Sloane's face appeared on the screen. Looking at him disturbed me so much that I barely paid any attention to what he was actually saying. I thought he had ruined my night, but then, as the speech ended, Vaughn put his cover to good use.

"What do you think of Arvin Sloane?" he asked in an even tone, as if it was the most innocent of questions.

"Me?" I let a hint of surprise escape in my tone.

"Yes. You're a Rambaldi expert, he's been obsessed about the man's work for thirty years, I thought you might have an opinion… Do you believe he has really changed?"

I took a deep breath before answering, afraid to say something I shouldn't. "No… no, I don't." I finally said. "I think he will use this Omnifam foundation to continue his pursuit of Rambaldi." That was all I could say. Julia Thorne had never met Sloane, she wasn't supposed to have information about SD-6 or the Alliance, and she certainly couldn't accuse Sloane of being an evil terrorist since she was one herself.

Vaughn smiled and nodded his head. "I think so, too" he said. And then it struck me: he needed support and he turned to Julia... A warm comforting feeling rose inside me.

"Well, people can be extremely naïve sometimes." I said trying to sound nonchalant.

"I couldn't agree more." We shared a smile. In a very twisted way, we were still on the same side, we were still we.

…………………………………………………….

We had that talk on a Thursday evening; the next weekend Vaughn and Weiss were going to be in LA (Christopher and Fred would be spending three days in Paris, supposedly). I hated those weekends, not only because I knew that he was going to be with Lauren, but also because he would go home and leave me behind. That once, though, I didn't have much time to dwell on that, because Kendall sent me a message early Friday morning. We met at the church, as usual.

"Sydney, we finally figured out how to put the Rambaldi Loom to work. I'm going to Nevada this weekend to oversee the first tests at Project Black Hole. I want you to come with me." – cut to the chase, no pleasantries at all; typical Kendall.

"Sir, I'm not supposed to go to America… In fact _you_ forbid me to go back there before the Covenant was shut down." I said letting some irony through my voice.

"Yes, thank you, Agent Bristow, I remember. But I want you to be there for this. We're taking a cargo jet and you'll go into the facility undercover. No one we'll recognize you. We leave tonight."

I didn't know how I should feel. I would be back in the States for the first time since my abduction, almost two years before, but I wasn't exactly excited about that. Somehow, I thought that being there would make the nightmare my life had become even more real. 'At least I'm not going to LA.' I mused. It would have been too hard at that point.

………………………………………………………….

The Project Black Hole facility was under the joint jurisdiction of the NSA, the CIA and the DSR. It looked like a fortress in the middle of the desert. I had to wear facial implants to trick the face recognition system and it was kind of funny watching Kendall to try and sabotage security at his own place. Once inside the building, he took me to a very impressive room: it was a long gallery that reminded me of an art museum; only there all the pieces were Rambaldi artifacts. A bit nostalgic I recognized the prototype of the Muller Device I had stolen for SD-6 right before walking in the CIA, the Donati Clock with the "golden sun" attached to it, Pope Alexander the VIth Portrait, for which Vaughn and I had broken into the Vatican on our very first mission together, the Music Box from Siberia, the Di Regno Heart set in the center of a machine I supposed was The Telling. Other artifacts I had never seen: an hourglass, a wooden carved square box, a big kaleidoscope, a golden sphere. The Loom was there too. Kendall removed it from its display case and told me to follow him to the lab.

A technician was there examining the ball of thread I had got in Fleury. At first, I thought he was the only person in the room, but then I heard her voice, clearly filled with emotion, behind me:

"Hello, sweetheart.". I didn't need to turn around to know who it was; my eyes welled up with tears before I actually saw her.

"Mom…"

She took me in her arms and held me tightly. "It's okay, sweetheart, everything is going to be okay" she whispered in a soothing tone running her hand through my hair as if I was six years old again. "Would you give us a moment?" she asked Kendall. To my surprise he nodded yes and guided my mother and me to a small office nearby, leaving us alone.

"What are you doing here, Mom?" I asked, still not able to believe that she was really there.

"Come here" she said sitting on the couch "I'll explain everything to you."

I sat down facing her and she took my hand, smiling. "Your father and I thought you were dead…" she did a long pause "I'm so glad to see you again, Sydney…"

"Me too, Mom." I said smiling. She squeezed my hand before continuing.

"When I learned you were dead, I refused to believe it. I had got to know you those months I was in CIA's custody; I knew how strong you were… you were one of the best agents I had ever seen in action. I was so proud of you. And then a contact of mine told me you had died in a home fire. It was preposterous. I had to contact Jack. I thought it might be an operation, maybe the CIA had conceived a new plan to catch Sloane and it involved pretending you were dead. Of course I knew it could be a plan to catch me too, but I just had to know the truth. When I saw Jack, though, I realized that there was no plan at all." She lowered her eyes as if it was painful to keep talking.

"I had never seen your dad like that. It scared me. He looked … helpless. I had broken into his apartment fearing he would point a gun at me as soon as he saw me… but instead he looked at me with bloodshot eyes, raised from the armchair he had been sitting in and hugged me. I mean, he was clinging to me. After holding him a moment, I made him sit down again. He looked at me and said in a very strained voice: 'We lost her, Irina. We lost our little girl."

I couldn't say anything; silent tears rolled down my face. My father was so strong; picturing him in such a state hurt me. And somehow it was my fault.

"It was as if we had gone back in time in a way." she continued "As if I wasn't the woman who had deceived him anymore. As if I was only his wife and the mother of the child he had lost; the only person who could possibly share his pain."

I nodded my head in understanding.

"We stayed together all day long. He said no one would come bother him after what had happened. I finally told him I should go, but he stopped me saying we needed to find out who had killed you. We established a protocol for making contact and that's how we started working together."

"But the NSC found out and arrested Dad." I said.

"They did. But not before we learned you weren't dead at all."

"What? You knew I was alive? Dad knows I'm alive?"

"Yes, he does. He doesn't know you work for the CIA; he believes you were successfully conditioned and that you really became Julia Thorne; but he knows you're alive."

"Well, that's not the best case scenario, but it's not bad at all." She nodded her head.

"We were very happy to learn that you were alive, even if we found out watching raw footage of you murdering a Russian Diplomat."

"Lazarey… But I didn't actually kill him. I faked his death."

"I know. Mr. Kendall told me what's been going on when he asked my assistance with the Rambaldi Loom."

I was silent for a moment, not sure of how much Kendall had told her.

"I know about Vaughn." – she answered my non-asked question – "Sydney… my relationship with Jack may have been a contrivance. My love for him – and for you – never was. Some lies are truer than truth itself."

"But Mom, he is in a _real_ relationship with another woman."

"Yes, a woman he sees once a month. Are you sure that _that_ is his real relationship?"

"I don't want to be hopeful."

"I'm not telling you to be hopeful. I'm telling you to live your life, your love for Vaughn. I wouldn't trade my time with Jack for anything in the world. Those years were the happiest of my life and no one can take them from me."

At that point Kendall opened the door. "Sorry to interrupt, but we have work to do."

………………………………………………………..

When we came back to the lab the Loom was all set. Kendall told the technician to initiate the mechanism and it began to weave.

"Mom, do you know what we should expect?" I asked.

"Supposedly the woof produced by the Loom will have a message encrypted in it. How one will be able to decipher it I still don't know."

"I see..." I said with a quiet sigh.

"You're not a huge fan of Rambaldi, are you?" she turned to me with a hint of a smile.

"No I'm not."

Kendall couldn't take his eyes from the Loom. The process was slow and the mechanism went on for about an hour before it stopped. Kendall took the strip of cloth it had weaved and held it carefully as if it was a wonder. I couldn't help remembering Andersen's "The Emperor new clothes" and I was sure my mother knew what I was thinking when I looked at her rolling my eyes. She told me that tale many times when I was little.

"What about the message?" I asked.

"No idea." said Kendall "but at least we have the cloth. We'll figure it out eventually. Now you should say goodbye to your mother. It's time you return to Rome."

"You are not coming?" I asked him.

"Not for a week. Ms Derevko and I will do some research about this."

"Are you collaborating with the CIA again?" I asked Mom.

"No, I'm collaborating with Mr. Kendall. – He's been helping you." she added as a necessary explanation.

"You'll end up in federal prison like my father." I told Kendall half serious.

He gasped. "If the CIA consults with Arvin Sloane, why the hell can't I consult with Irina Derevko?"

Sometimes I almost liked Kendall.

……………………………………………………

"When will we see each other again, Mom?"

"Maybe sooner than you think. Be safe, sweetheart. I love you. I'm very proud of you and I'm sure your dad will be too."

"I don't think he would approve what's been going on between Vaughn and me."

"Well, has he ever approved any of your boyfriends?"

She had a point…

……………………………………………………..

Monday morning when I arrived at the office Vaughn and Weiss were already there.

"How was Paris?" I asked.

"Very nice! Thanks" Weiss answered.

Vaughn just smiled at me and what my mother had said echoed in my head: Lauren was the official girlfriend and he might have spent the weekend with her; but except for that monthly absence, _I_ had him all the time. Someway, he was still mine.

That's what meant the searing kiss I gave him, leaving him out of breath.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter thirteen:**

Cole assigned me to the murders of a high-rank officer with the Shin Bet and his whole family – wife and two teenage sons. Apparently the man had gotten in the way of the Covenant and they wanted him dead. Julia didn't get that kind of assignment very often, but sometimes Cole would put her past as a contract killer to use. So I left to Tel Aviv, broke into the house of that family, explained that I was a double agent with the CIA, that the Covenant had ordered their deaths and that they would have to enter a protection program. Then I took pictures of the parents and the children covered in fake blood lying on the floor of their kitchen. A CIA team took them from their home, where they would never be able to go back, gave them new identity papers and erased whatever had been left of their lives so far. Saying that I was depressed when I got back to Rome was an understatement.

Always the sadistic, Cole was so turned on by the pictures of the supposedly slaughtered family that he called Vaughn to look at them, telling him he was a happy man for having a girlfriend who could do something like that with a smile on her face. I thought Vaughn was going to throw up all over the pictures and I felt sick myself.

He carefully avoided me for the remainder of the day, but when I was about to leave, he asked if we could have dinner in my apartment that night. This wasn't much of a surprise because I knew he needed to copy some files I kept in my personal safe at home, but I actually pitied him for having to spend _that_ night with me. If I didn't particularly like myself then – and I knew I had saved that family – I could only imagine how he felt.

I told Hannah that I wanted to make dinner myself, so she took the night off and I tried to relax a little bit while preparing a salad and some _bruschetas_ – I was sure Vaughn and I wouldn't have much of an appetite that evening. He arrived at seven sharp bringing a bottle of wine.

"I thought we could eat out at the balcony, what do you think?" I asked letting him inside. It was the beginning of summer and the day had been rather hot.

"It's a great idea. Let's do it." He sounded happy and relaxed, but I knew better: there was nothing of Vaughn in the man in front of me, it was all Christopher.

All dinner long I talked to a hollow mask. He praised me on the food, told me about a book he had been reading, helped me with the dishes and I knew he was simply playing his part on a stage. 'At least be a better actor!' I wanted to shout at him. But then, I knew my anger was directed towards myself, not him. He was following orders he had sworn to obey, he was doing all that for the good his country, while I – sometimes I couldn't even remember why I was stuck in that mess. 'Because I love him' was the only answer I could produce; but if I truly loved him, if I truly praised what we had – or had had – together, would I be trapping both of us in such a twisted situation, that was clearly setting us up to certain heartbreak? I had no answer to that.

As I finished drying the dishes he came behind me and put his arms around my waist. I usually loved when he did that, but that night it was so obvious that he was _doing his job_ that for the first time I really felt used – and worse: I felt that _I_ was _doing my job_ too. And there was nothing noble or dignifying about it.

All I could do was try to make any rational thought fade away and let my body take precedence over my mind as we made our way to my bedroom. I could tell he was doing the same as he got rid of my clothes and threw me ruthlessly on the mattress. There were no glances shared, no whispers, no caresses that night; we were visceral and rough.

As I exhaled a heavy gasp, he rolled to his side of the bed and we were silent for a while, both of us trying to regain our normal breath while staring at the ceiling. I remember thinking that I should be feeling bad; I had had sex with Vaughn and it had been… I wouldn't say loveless – it just hadn't been about love. It had, nevertheless, still been… wonderful. And, as he sighed heavily beside me, a wide proud happy grin spread over my face.

From the very beginning of our relationship, even when it was strictly professional (way before I flat out lied to Doctor Barnett telling her that; in a distant time when I myself truly believed that we were nothing more than asset and handler) I knew that Vaughn and I had a connection that was our own and only ours. It would show itself in many different ways: our success working together; the friendship we developed; the deep love we shared; or our undeniable physical bond. That unique connection had been there all along, in every step of our blooming relationship. What I learned that night lying beside Vaughn – and it was that making me smile – was that it would still be there, even when our story took such a dark turn. It didn't matter that Vaughn thought I was a despicable killer, someone he should hate, someone he could use remorselessly; it didn't matter that I knew I was his assignment, that I knew he had another woman. Overcoming all kind of rational thought, something in our innermost selves, something we had no control over would arise inside us and between us whenever we were close to each other and would make us feel alive and connected and right where we belonged.

Realizing that brought me a sense of pride and power, and a mean thought crossed my mind: 'poor Miss Read… such a good girl, the precious daughter of a senator – she'd never have what I had with Vaughn. She'd never love him the way I did; she'd never be loved by him the way I was; she'd never get to know the whole range of his smiles or the vast variety of his glances – complex combinations of shades of green, duration of stare and intensity of gaze I knew by heart; she'd never make him feel what I could make him feel with a single touch; she'd never know the Vaughn I knew. Most of all, she'd never realize, with unquestionable certainty, that she was the woman of his life, like I did just then, after sharing with him something that wasn't love, but much more then that: some indefinable sense of need and desire, a vital impulse, the very substance and intensity life was made of. That's what Vaughn made me feel; that's what I – and I alone – made him feel.

…………………………………………………

"How did you end up being an assassin?" he asked me after we had been lying down together for a while.

I wasn't expecting it at that moment, but I would eventually wonder if he would ever ask Julia about her life.

"Do you want the long or the short version of the story?" I asked him.

"I'd go for the long one, if that's okay..."

I took a deep breath and prepared myself to recite what I had learnt about Julia Thorne in months of brainwashing. "I lived in a London suburb with my family as a child. My father was a postman, my mother was a housewife and I had two younger brothers. We weren't wealthy but we had a nice house and I guess we were happy… you know, just a regular family."

He propped his body on his elbow and turned to face to me.

"When I was nine, there was a fire in the house one night. I crawled out the door in time, but my parents and my brothers were trapped. I had no one left and they took me to an orphanage in Oxford."

"I'm sorry." he said.

"It's okay. It was a long time ago. When I turned thirteen I ran away and went back to London. I lived in the streets, pick pocketing, shoplifting, this sort of thing. Then one night a man tried to rape me and I killed him with his own knife."

Vaughn swallowed hard. Even if it wasn't real, I think even the idea of me being raped was unbearable to him.

"It turned out that that man was a member of a gang and his friends came after me. I killed three of them. The fourth offered me a job – as a killer. That's how I started my career."

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

"And then what happened?"

"I was quite good at what I did. When I was seventeen the French mob contacted me. They said they would tell me who had been responsible for the fire in my house if I agreed to work for them. So I killed my family's murderers and started working for the French mob, killing whoever they wanted me to. A couple of years later I grew tired of that and went freelance. I made quite a reputation, but being a contract killer brings no… stability." I said with a hint of sarcasm "So when the Covenant contacted me I thought it was a good opportunity. Here we are." I concluded.

"But why did the Covenant hire you to run the Section of Advance Research?"

"Oh… my father wasn't only a postman. He was a follower of Rambaldi. That's actually why my family was killed. A Russian terrorist group was after some manuscripts my father was keeping. After I learned this, I started studying Rambaldi's work on my own. I ended up with some good contacts, so…"

"I see… Are you happy?" he asked boldly after a small pause.

"Happy?" – I repeated the word as if I had no idea what it meant. I didn't think Julia would.

"Yeah, with your life, I mean. Do you enjoy what you do?" he rephrased.

"It can be exciting on occasion…" I replied with a seductive glance letting my voice trail off, trying to change the mood.

He looked at me with such intensity I felt my face blushing. He was playing along.

"I'm sure it can." he said in a deep tone, and a note of – was that infatuation? – in his voice surprised me. Was Agent Vaughn falling for the dark side?

"Yeah…" I said languorously. "Do you want some more wine?" I asked softly.

"No. I want some more you." he said before leaning over me and kissing me passionately.

There was certainly no one _doing their job_ after that…


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter fourteen:**

Like the DSR, the Covenant also put the Loom to weave and obtained a strip of cloth that supposedly had a message encrypted in its woof – except they had the fake Loom, the fake thread and, consequently, the fake cloth. It was them, however, that found out about the existence of a code key to interpret the woof. The followers of Rambaldi had hidden it inside a medieval armor which was kept in the Tower of London.

Kendall had Marshall come up with a bogus code key which would decipher the woof the Covenant had into some useless message. There was a huge problem, though: we didn't know whether the code key was written on a parchment, carved on wood or encrypted in some object. That meant that Kendall would need a team on site to make a duplicate after I got the package.

"Is Marshall going to be there?" I asked hopefully. Maybe under such circumstances Kendall would let at least one of my friends know that I was alive and that I wasn't evil.

"No. Carrie just had the baby. Marshall won't be able to be in London." He answered.

"She did?" I asked excited.

"Two days ago. It's a boy. His name is Mitchell, I think."

"That's great…"

"Yes. Back to work, Sydney. This is not looking good. Is Vaughn going to be your partner in London?"

"I suppose so."

"This will complicate things. You won't be able to separate from him to meet with our team. You have to take Leonid with you, not Vaughn."

"But how am I going to tell Vaughn he is not going?"

"You're his boss. Tell him he looks tired and give him a few days off or something. You're very creative."

"He won't accept this. His handler will want him to steal the code key too."

"I'll take care of it."

"How?"

"I'll tell the CIA that the code key is a fake"

"Kendall, you can't lie to the CIA like this!"

"There's no other way. They can't get the code key or they'll find out the Loom in their possession is a counterfeit."

"Oh my God. We're betraying the CIA…"

"Sydney, they can't know about you, it's too dangerous, but without you the operation against the Covenant won't go anywhere. Someday they'll thank us."

"If you say so…" I said skeptically.

……………………………………………………………...

The day after that conversation, I told Vaughn that I was taking Leonid to London because he had experience with British security systems. He didn't seem happy, but he didn't question my explanation. Leonid, on the other hand, was terrified of breaking into the Tower of London – he had never been a field agent –, and Weiss couldn't have helped less: he went on and on reminding Leonid of how many people had been executed in that very place. He even started calling him "Lady Jane".

"Are you going to be okay?" Vaughn asked sounding concerned as I left to the airport.

"Yeah, I will." I answered not very convincingly. Truth was I wanted him to come with me. I wasn't afraid of becoming the new Anne Boleyn, but breaking into the Tower of London wasn't exactly a piece of cake and I wasn't sure that Leonid would be of any help; actually I thought he would be a problem.

"I'll see you when you get back, okay?" his tone reminded me of the one he used when he was my handler and I had a tough mission ahead. It made me feel a little bit better and I said good bye to him and to Weiss with a smile.

……………………………………………………………

Not that I expected a sunny day in London, but it was pouring down when our flight landed at Heathrow. We took the underground to the Tower. Kendall and three technicians had set their equipment in a vacant room at Tower Hill station and Leonid and I stopped by to get some extra CIA gear. We got inside the fortress with the last tourists and hid in the moat, beside the ravens' nursery, so nobody would spot us. Time seemed to have stopped as the storm got even worse: I was soaked wet and actually getting afraid of drowning inside the moat, which would be really tragic. Finally the crates closed after the last tourists and the guides and only the guards were left.

We crawled out of hiding and went to the White Tower, where the armor we were looking for was kept. We climbed the stone walls up to the fourth floor and cut open the steel bars of the window with the help of Marshall's latest gadget (before Mitchell, it is). Everything was going fine until I found the right armor and opened the display inside which it stood. I couldn't let go of the glass door, though, or the alarm would go off, so I asked Leonid, who had been staring at some torture instruments, to get the code key for me. It was a big mistake, though. As he tried to open the armor, it fell to the ground with an incredibly loud boom. He glanced at me and simply took off running. At that point, the alarm was the least of my problems, so I let go of the glass door, took the parchment roll that had fallen to the ground with the pieces of the armor and ran to the window. When I was about to climb out of it, though, I saw two guards climbing up the wall. I turned back only to see other four coming after me. I was trapped.

And then, all of a sudden, Vaughn and Weiss came out of nowhere and started fighting the guards. I took down the ones coming up the window and we were all alone in the Arms Room. We made our way down the stairs fighting a few more guards and soon we were out the ramparts.

"Thank you so much, guys. Aren't you my knights in shining armors?" I said laughing.

"And you're our Lady in Distress. But seriously, what happened?!? We saw Leonid running for his life across the lawn. I think he ran over some ravens…" that was Weiss, obviously.

"He knocked down the armor, freaked out and took off." I answered shaking my head.

"I knew you shouldn't have come with him. You're never going on a mission with that moron again." Vaughn scolded me in a protective tone.

I saw Weiss glaring at him at the corner of my eye. His friend seemed to have forgotten who I was supposed to be and who he was supposed to be. But maybe Weiss and I were both wrong and there was something else going on, because as I playfully lifted an eyebrow and grinned at Vaughn's overprotective reaction, he grabbed my arm and said in a very serious tone:

"Julia, I'm not kidding."

"Okay." I said, gaping at him, not knowing what to say or what to think. Was this part of the pretense – he soon would have to explain to me what he and Weiss were doing in London – or was he actually starting to care about Julia – as the intensity of his reaction and Weiss's glare suggested?

As I dwelled on that, Leonid showed up and tried to convince us that he had left me to look for a way to get both of us out. Vaughn stared him down and Weiss simply shook his head. I told Leonid we would talk about that later and put him in charge of keeping the parchment safe that night, knowing that that was the worst punishment for him, because it meant spending hours with Kendall while the duplicate was done.

We were all drenched, so Vaughn and Weiss suggested that we went to their hotel, got changed into dry clothes and then had some dinner – without Leonid, of course. The hotel was a block away from the Tower, so we walked there. It was only in the elevator that I finally asked them why they went to London. Vaughn said he didn't trust Leonid's capacity and wanted to make sure that I would be fine. At that point this seemed a perfectly reasonable argument and I couldn't question it (Vaughn's behavior at the Tower had made it look very real, in fact), but unfortunately I was sure that it wasn't the truth – or at least not the official truth: they had gone to London because their handler wanted the code key, which meant he didn't trust Kendall. And that wasn't good at all. There was nothing I could do about it, though, so I simply thanked them again. That mission wouldn't be compromised anyway, because if they managed to steal the parchment from Leonid it would already be the counterfeit. I envisioned trouble in the near future, though.

We had dinner at a little Indian restaurant and it was really fun. Weiss mocked Leonid endlessly, since he wasn't there to defend himself, and I felt very comfortable spending time with two people I knew and trusted and loved, even if they didn't know that. In a way, being with Vaughn and Weiss was easier than being alone with Vaughn, which still made me nervous – not in a bad way, but nervous nevertheless. Weiss brought some lightness to our complex situation. Talking and laughing with them, I felt home, and, at some point of the evening, I was one step from believing that my life was what it should be; from forgetting that I had ever been abducted, declared dead, brainwashed… and I'd like to think that they were too. Wishful thinking I know, but this is all I have left.


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Hello everyone! Thank you again for reading and reviewing. I love hearing from you and I'm really glad that you like the story. I only hope I can keep up to your expectations. And I know: watching Sydney and Vaughn lie to each other like this can be quite excruciating, but I promise you things will be fine – well, more than fine – eventually. I am not that sadistic! Now I'll just let you read the chapter.

**Chapter fifteen:**

After his disgrace in London, Leonid could barely look me in the eye. I assigned him permanently to desk duty in the Covenant and told Kendall that he couldn't go out in the field for the CIA under any circumstances. It didn't mean that I disliked him, he just wasn't cut to do that kind of job. Kendall of course wasn't very pleased with that. He had never liked Leonid and plus he was pissed off at the fact that the CIA didn't seem to trust him. He told me he had confronted Vaughn and Weiss's handler about them having been sent to London and he simply said he wanted to be sure.

"Who is their handler, anyway?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Lambert." he answered.

"Lambert?!?" it couldn't possibly be.

"You know him?"

"Yeah, kind of… He was my handler for like three days."

"I thought Vaughn had always been your handler…"

"Soon after I joined the CIA I got Vaughn and myself in some trouble... We lost a nuke, I mean I lost a nuke, it was my fault but Vaughn interfered and I guess Devlin held him partly responsible. I don't know whether it was some sort of punishment, but they had Vaughn replaced as my handler… by Lambert."

"I see. And what happened?"

"He was a jerk full of himself and he didn't have the slightest idea of what he was doing. I mean he called me once without anything to say just because he wanted to have 'some face time with his girl'… And then he ordered me to put a tracking device on Anna Espinosa…"

"Not very smart."

"Not at all. So I told him that if Vaughn wasn't immediately reinstated as my handler I wouldn't pass any Intel to the CIA anymore."

"What?!" he gapped at me.

"It worked. Vaughn even got a promotion because of it." I smiled recalling the incident.

"You and Vaughn … you…"

"What?" I asked looking up at Kendall. He didn't usually stumble with words. But then he didn't usually discuss personal subjects with me and it seemed that he was heading in that direction then.

"You were always… different – special, I guess. You always had each other's back. I remember how much he tried to protect you when I compelled you to talk to your mother when she first walked in."

"Yeah… we were…" I said dreamily. He would always put me first; ahead of the CIA, of his career, of himself and his grieving for his father… "Anyway, poor Vaughn and Weiss. Lambert is…"

"Stupid."

"Yes." I laughed. "And Vaughn hates him."

"Well, that's how it is. I'll contact you as soon as I have news about the Loom's message. Your mother is working with the decryption team in Nevada."

"Is she all right?"

"She's fine."

"Thank you."

"Talk to you soon."

……………………………………………………..

When I arrived home I found Vaughn sitting in my living room.

"Hi." I said surprised.

"Hey." he walked up to me and gave me a kiss "Hannah let me in. She just left. Said she had some errands to run."

"Okay." I smiled.

"Are you busy this weekend?" he asked in a light tone.

"I don't think Cole is sending me anywhere, why?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to go away with me, just for a couple days."

"What do you have in mind?"

"How does Capri sound?"

"Are you serious?" was he really inviting me to spend the weekend in an idyllic island?

"Yes. Have you ever been there?"

"Only for a day, but I really liked it."

"So we're going?" he sounded excited.

"Yes, we're going." I was definitely excited.

"Great, I'll come pick you up in an hour. We'll drive to Sorrento a get the ferry there." He said cheerfully.

"Okay. I'll be ready."

………………………………………………………

"This is Kendall." He picked up his cell at the first ring.

"Hi, Kendall"

"Sydney, you know it's not safe to call me like this. And I saw you forty minutes ago."

"I know, but I thought that I should let you know that I'm going to Capri."

"Mission?"

"No. Vaughn invited me to a weekend getaway."

"Really?" his tone was weird. "I'll call you back."

My own cell rang less than ten minutes later.

"Hello."

"It is a mission, at least for Vaughn. He's after some files on the Covenant. A defector is hiding in Capri."

"And why is he taking me with him?"

"Now that, Sydney, is a damn good question. I have no idea, and Lambert doesn't seem to know that you're going with his asset."

"It's weird… Wait: you don't want me to steal Vaughn's intel, do you?"

"No, it won't be necessary. Just enjoy your weekend. And try to find out if Vaughn is up to something, like double-crossing his own handler for example. You said it yourself: he hates the guy."

"Okay. I will." Lambert definitely deserved to be double-crossed, but I doubted Vaughn would be capable of something like that.

…………………………………………………..

That summer was especially hot and it would be great to spend sometime in an idyllic island with Vaughn, even if he was "up to something". We took the A2 expressway Rome – Naples and in a little bit more than three hours we were close to Sorrento.

"Do you want to take a little detour and get a secondary route? We could drive by the Amalfi Coast, maybe grab a late lunch in Positano…"

"Sure, let's do it." I had been to Positano before and though I had to leave in a hurry because Anna Espinosa had shot and killed my contact, Mr. Giovanni Donati, to whom I had taken the Rambaldi Clock so it could get fixed, I remembered it was a very beautiful place.

We drove by the seaside in a curvy driveway skirting the cliffs. The view was breathtaking. We ate in a little fish restaurant facing the ocean and as we watched the sunset I knew that was one of those perfect moments when I could just forget the mess my life was and enjoy having Vaughn just for me. We headed back to the car laughing out loud trying not to be carried away with the wind. Vaughn opened the door for me and told me to wait there a second. He came back a couple minutes later with a small package and handed it to me.

"What is this?" I asked him, still laughing.

"Open it."

It was a colorful handmade shawl, typical craftwork from that area.

"I know you're cold" he said grinning.

"I am. Thank you. It's beautiful." My laughter had turned into a truthful smile.

"You're welcome. But now let's run. If we don't get to Sorrento in half an hour we'll miss the last ferry of the day."

"Okay."

……………………………………………….

We arrived at the docks at the last minute, left the car at a parking nearby and literally ran to the ferry. It was getting dark and a chilly wind was blowing, but I stood on the outside deck watching the fishermen put their boats to the water, wrapping myself in my new shawl. Vaughn stood behind me and sneaked his arms around mine bringing my body closer to his. I leant back on his chest as he pressed soft kisses into my neck. 'I love you' I thought closing my eyes and sighing. I had never said those words to him, neither had he said them to me. I wish we would some day. In the middle of this life of pretense we lead, this is the one truth I want him to know.

In a few more than twenty minutes we were taking a funicular to the highest part of the island, where our hotel was. I wandered around the room as Vaughn brought our bags inside.

"You always do that." he said laughing softly.

"What?"

"Check the room driven by your 'spy sense'." He playfully rolled his eyes at me.

"I'm sorry." I said sheepishly

"Don't be." He said hugging me and bringing his face very close to mine. "You're so beautiful" he whispered and I kissed him before he could see the tears forming in my eyes.

………………………………………………….

We spent the next day walking on the cliffs, up and down to see the _Arco Naturale_, which seemed a miracle to me, and the grottos by the sea. Silence hung around us and surrounded only by the rocks and the trees and the ocean I could almost believe that we were alone in the world and that nothing or nobody could touch us. And though I knew it wasn't true I felt completely happy with Vaughn's arms enveloping me.

When evening came we perused through town and had dinner at a restaurant with whitewashed walls and green painted windows overlooking the ocean. We walked back to the hotel holding hands and made love until the crack of dawn. I simply stared at him sleeping beside me until morning came.

He wasn't there when I opened my eyes. I found a note and a bunch of pink flowers on his pillow. "I'll be back soon. Have some breakfast" the note read. I noticed a tea trolley with fruits, bread and coffee beside the window. He must have gone out to meet his contact and when he got back he would tell me a lie, but it didn't matter. That weekend was perfect and nothing would change that.

"Hi, Sleeping Beauty" he said a couple hours later. I was sitting by the opened window letting the wind blow through my hair.

"Hi you. I missed you. Where have you been?" I had to ask.

"I had to meet with a contact." he answered without hesitation.

I jolted on my chair. Why did he tell me that?

"Really? I thought we were on vacation…"

"We are. I'm sorry. I just thought I could take the opportunity. But I'm all yours now." He stood behind my chair and started massaging my shoulders.

"Fine, I forgive you. When do we have to leave?"

"I thought we could take the next ferry and have lunch in Sorrento, then drive home."

"I wish we didn't have to go back."

"Me neither." He stared at me.

"What?" I asked softly.

"There's something different about you this weekend." He said.

I froze. There _was_ something different. I had let myself forget I was supposed to be Julia Thorne, I had slipped into Sydney so many times that there was no way he wouldn't notice something.

"I'm happy." Start lying right then wouldn't do any good.

He just smiled at me and I thanked him silently for letting it go.

We left the hotel, took the ferry back to Sorrento, had lunch and drove back to Rome. I slumbered in the car and he had to wake me when he pulled over in front of my building.

"Stay with me tonight?" I asked him softly.

"Of course." He smiled going up with me.

…………………………………………………..

The next morning I called Kendall while Vaughn was in the shower.

"I don't think he's up to anything" I said as soon as he picked up.

"He is not? And why do you think he took you with him?" he questioned.

"Probably I was his alibi." It sounded reasonable.

"Probably…" Kendall repeated sounding unconvinced "Anyway, how was your weekend?"

"Good." I said shortly.

"Really? – You didn't blow your cover, did you?"

"No, I did not." – I replied letting some anger show.

"Good. Keep it that way, will you?"

Sometimes I really hated Kendall.


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N****: **Hi everyone! I just want to let you know that chapter seventeen shouldn't be up until next Thursday. You see, next week it's _Carnaval_, which in Brazil – and specially in Rio, where I live – is a great, great deal, as you might know. Anyway, I am not that much into samba or the typical parades, so this year I'll be escaping to my family's cottage, and unfortunately I'll have no internet access there. I'm taking my laptop, though, and I'll keep writing – I promise. Hope you like this chapter.

**Chapter sixteen:**

It took me a while to understand what that buzzing noise in the middle of the blue ocean was, but I finally realized that I had been dreaming and my cell was ringing. Vaughn stirred beside me as I picked the phone from the bedside table and brought it to my ear grunting slightly. It was Kendall.

"I need you in LA as soon as possible. There will be a private jet waiting for you at the airport in two hours. You'll find instructions and everything you'll need inside. The pilot will be waiting for you in the parking garage, level five, western corner. See you soon."

It had to be a dream, but when I heard Vaughn asking me what was going on I knew it wasn't.

"Sorry it woke you up. I need to go meet a contact. Go back to sleep."

"You're meeting a contact in the middle of the night?"

"He is in Moscow; I'll try to catch an early flight."

"Okay." he said sleepy "I'll see you Monday, then. I'm going to Barcelona this weekend."

"Oh, I had forgotten…" – that _he_ would be in _LA_ that weekend _too_. It was his monthly break – Lauren's weekend. "Have a good trip, Chris." I managed to say in my troubled state.

"You too."

I wanted to kill Kendall. Why would he need me in LA so urgently? And why had it to be this weekend, with Vaughn there? I picked a few clothes, tossed them inside my bag and left my apartment in a hurry. From the cab I called Leonid and asked him to cover for me with Cole. Then I called Hannah. She was so horrified with the situation that she asked if I wanted her to come to LA with me, which I politely declined. At the airport I met the pilot and he took me to the jet. It would take me to Lisbon, where I was supposed to catch a commercial flight to LA under an alias. I found a bag with a white wig, a flowery dress, leather sandals, a cane, lots of make up and a purse with money and a passport. I was supposed to be Catarina Pontes, a seventy two year old Portuguese lady who would be visiting her grandchildren in the U.S. There were even family pictures in her wallet. Her son – I recognized one of Kendall's associates hugging a woman and two little girls – would be picking her up at LAX. Here we go, I thought.

Agent Cabot met me at the airport and took me to a safe house downtown to which I had never been. He informed me that Kendall would be there soon. After sixteen hours of being an old lady, my back hurt and I had a headache. So I got rid of forty three years in the shower and put my own clothes on to wait for Kendall. He arrived an hour later and explained that the message encrypted in the cloth produced by the Rambaldi Loom had been deciphered using the code key I had gotten in London. It was a DNA sequence that he suspected was my own. He had asked me to come to LA to collect a sample. I couldn't believe it.

"Kendall, my DNA is in the CIA database!" I said angry.

"I know it is, Sydney, but I can't get it from the database without them knowing it. And I don't think it would be safe to let them learn that you have yet another connection to Rambaldi right now."

"Couldn't you say it was for something else, something not related to Rambaldi?"

"Like what? I'm sorry for being blunt, but you're dead… What would I want with your DNA? The moment I requested it Marshall would start asking questions. We can't afford that."

"Fine." I sighed, the 'you're dead' line echoing in my mind.

Kendall took some of my blood and I must have looked really sad, because he asked if I'd like to see a picture of Marshall's baby. I looked at him curiously and he explained that Marshall had been wandering around the Rotunda with his tie on backwards and his hair looking like a mess giving everyone pictures of his son. I laughed softly at that, wishing I could be there.

"Mitchell is a very beautiful baby" I said looking at the picture.

"I'm sure Marshall would be thrilled to know that you saw that. I wish I could give it to you, but I don't think it would be safe for you to keep it. Someone might find it…"

"I know. I'm glad I could at least see it. I hope I can actually meet Mitchell someday."

"You will… You will come back home someday, Sydney." he said reassuringly "Now, I'll take this to a private lab. We should have the results in twenty four hours."

"What does it mean? my DNA encrypted on the cloth?" I asked already dreading the answer.

"We still don't know."

"Okay." I remained silent for a moment. "Is my mother in LA?" I asked hopeful.

"No, she is back in Nevada, why?"

"Nothing, I didn't want to be here all alone."

"You don't need to be here. You can leave, go anywhere you want, as long as you're wearing your disguise."

"Well, I meant _here_ in LA…"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sydney, but remember that it's a question of your safety that you don't contact anyone."

"I know. I'll wait to hear from you."

"Ok. I'll see you tomorrow. Have some rest, you look very tired."

"I will. Thank you, Kendall."

………………………………………………………

After Kendall left I had the most unfortunate idea ever, but I couldn't stop myself. I needed to go back there. I dressed up as Mrs. Pontes again, walked two blocks and hailed a cab.

"Cochran street, please."

"Yes, Madam."

I got out of the cab a few blocks away from my old apartment and walked very slowly up the street. I didn't know what to expect. I would probably find a brand new place where mine used to be. Still, I was sure I'd feel the void.

I wasn't prepared to what I found, though: the wreckage of what used to be my home. Two years went by and the ruins of my life were still there: the roof had collapsed, as had some of the walls; the ones still standing were darkened from the fire; the wooden floor was mostly destroyed. From the sidewalk I stared at the debris. I could understand why everyone believed I was dead; it was almost a miracle that Will had survived that fire.

"The place burnt down almost two years ago." a young woman said standing beside me. "The owner got the money from the insurance but I think he invested it somewhere else."

"I see." I said in a strained voice that ironically fit my alias.

"You can go closer and take a look if you want. It's safe. My children play here all the time."

"Thank you. I will." I took a few steps, partly hoping that the woman would go away, and found myself at my former living room. My eyes stung with unshed tears as I thought about Francie and Will. I walked down the "hall" that was not there anymore and reached what used to be my bedroom. There was nothing really there anymore, but the memories seemed to rise from the ground and spin around me like a swirl of scenes and emotions: the loneliness I felt with Danny's death; the impossible amount of 'wrong numbers' my phone received; my mother's books and the KGB codes; the sorrow I felt finding out the truth about her; so many talks Will and I had in there; Vaughn and the first night we slept together; Vaughn and the first morning we woke up together; Vaughn and every single moment we spent together, talking, laughing, making love, doing nothing, just being there; Vaughn and the middle drawer; Vaughn and the picture frame; Vaughn, Vaughn, Vaughn…

I was crying so much that I couldn't see straight anymore. Everything around me was a blur and I let myself fall to the ground, with no one to catch me, no one to hold me.

…………………………………………………………

Eventually I dragged myself away from that place. Feeling lightheaded I remembered that I had had nothing to eat in many, many hours. Back at the safe house I knew all I would find were cans of soup and maybe some frozen meals. I knew I couldn't bring myself to eat that stuff, not that evening. So I took a deep breath, hailed a cab and asked the driver if he knew any new restaurants nearby – the last thing I needed was more memories; I needed to go some place where I had never been.

He took me to a small French bistro that seemed quite nice. It was early and only a few booths were occupied. I asked the hostess for the quietest place possible and she guided me to a corner.

I was sipping my chardonnay when I saw them coming in: Vaughn and Lauren.

That moment changed everything. In a few seconds the abstract concept of Lauren I had in my mind developed into a blonde skinny young woman with blue eyes who was kissing the man I loved right in front of me. And of course I couldn't be wearing a stunning couture gown with a deep cleavage that evening; I didn't have my hair up in a beautiful style; my make up didn't light my face up. Nope: that evening I was a very decent grandmother wearing a flowery dress, a white wig and one pound of make up, which literally made me look forty years older than I was.

I certainly wasn't any competition to Lauren in my current state, so I turned my thoughts to Julia. Julia and her brown hair cut in soft layers (a Covenant agent had dyed my hair blond at first, but I went back to my own chestnut brown as soon as I could and they didn't seem to mind), Julia and her athletic body, Julia and her brown eyes, Julia and her nice outfits, Julia and her seductive attitude. I wasn't going badly at all; the problem was Julia and her high status inside a terrorist organization, Julia and her background as a contract killer, Julia and her bad guy personality. How would that fight daughter-of-a-senator- NSC-officer Lauren?

Watching them having dinner together, though, I realized that the scoring I had been doing in my mind was only a trick to distract me from what really mattered, what really hurt: the simple fact that he was with her; smiling at her, sharing a meal with her, going home with her, building a relationship with her. There was no point in competing with Lauren. I knew I had already lost Vaughn, and not to her, but to my own dead self. Sydney would probably never lose him, but (as Kendall had made very clear that morning) she was gone and Vaughn was moving on. And he wouldn't choose to move on with Julia, a woman who was nothing more than Sydney's remains come to life again in some sort of Dr. Frankenstein nightmare; a ghost that haunted him. No. He would move on with someone who didn't carry that burden, who wouldn't impose that burden on him. Julia would always remind him that he had lost Sydney; Lauren would make him get over that.

Suddenly the new memories I had been building through Julia and Christopher revealed themselves into the lies they were – our kisses, our dates, our nights together, our weekend in Capri: all lies, all elements of an elaborate pretense – and all my ideas of having Vaughn while I could and however I could seemed ludicrous, naïve and silly; but, worst of all, they seemed mean: I was hurting him by being in his life, by forcing myself into his life. I had to let him go, I had to let us go.


	18. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Hey guys! I'm back!

**Chapter seventeen**

I didn't close my eyes at all that night. By dawn I was so tired of staring numbly at the ceiling of the safe house that I left for a run, obviously not dressed as Mrs. Pontes. All I did was clipping my hair and shoving a cap on my head.

I ended up at the ware house, our ware house. I knew I shouldn't be there; it might still be used by the CIA, but it wasn't quite morning yet and I doubted that other handlers that not my former one would meet their agents on such an odd hour just because she or he needed to talk or simply see her or his CIA contact for reassurance. While Vaughn was my handler, I didn't realize how much he broke protocol to protect me, to take care of me or simply to make me feel better. Of course I knew he did go out of his way to help me on many occasions, but I didn't know to what extension. It was Weiss who mentioned how many times he had feared ending up in Federal Prison because of Vaughn's behavior towards me.

_The three of us were having dinner together, maybe a month after the takedown of SD-6, and Weiss told me that once he had actually scolded Vaughn about crossing the professional line in our relationship and had forced him to take a step back. I looked quizzically at them both and Vaughn shook his head smiling._

"_It was after our operation in Denpassar. I had to leave Sark alone to help you with Dixon who was about to blow your cover and SD-6 got to Sark. Eric covered for me with Devlin but then he came to my office and threatened me or something."_

"_Oh… and then you met with me at the ware house acting all weird…" I recalled the event "I even asked you what was wrong." I said taking his hand and smiling at him._

"_Yeah, I remember. It was awful." he said. I laughed._

"_But it didn't last more than a few days… I mean, when I got back from Paris you were your old self again."_

_Weiss glared at him._

"_Will had learned the truth about you, you needed me." he stated firmly._

_Weiss rolled his eyes at him._

"_Yeah, I did. I always have." I said leaning in to kiss Vaughn, ignoring Weiss and his grunts._

_Vaughn smiled at me. "You know, Dr. Barnett slapped my wrist for giving you a Christmas present."_

"_She did?!?"_

"_Mmmhmm."_

"_Well, I love that picture frame…"_

"_No you don't. It's nowhere to be seen in your place." he retorted somewhat hurt._

"_That's because I've been saving it to when I have a great picture of us to put in it." I explained honestly._

"_Oh, I see. Good idea." He leant in to kiss me._

_I remember Weiss saying it was time for him to go and not really caring. Vaughn took me home and we barely made it to my bedroom. Hours later I was lying in his arms and I started laughing._

"_What?" he asked already laughing too._

"_You're a very sensible handler, Agent Vaughn." I managed to say in a serious tone._

"_Thank you, Agent Bristow. You're an impossible asset."_

"_No I'm not…" I retorted._

"_Yes you are. You were always arguing with me and… questioning my decisions and not following my orders and you thought I was stupid and… and then… and then…"_

"_And then what?"_

"_And then you gave me an impossibly hard time trying not to kiss you and strip you and just jump you in that dusty ware house."_

"_Oh, I'm terribly sorry I made your life so difficult…. But I promise that from now on I'll follow every single order you give me." I said in my best serious tone._

"_Really?" he stared at me._

"_Really." I nodded my head._

"_Kiss me." he said making it sound like an order. I immediately kissed him._

"_That's it?" I asked faking disappointment._

"_Oh no, that's just the beginning." he said with an evil grin._

I had no idea how I would be able to ever live without him. Sitting on the dirty cement floor of that ware house where everything had been a promise, I realized that there was nothing worth expecting in my life anymore. Maybe getting my father released, maybe coming back home, but anyway I wouldn't have Vaughn and that made anything seem irrelevant and unimportant. I would always be alone; I would always be without him. My heart sank with that feeling.

……………………………………………………

I went back to the safe house at the crack of morning and took a long shower. Kendall arrived an hour later. The DNA sequence encrypted in the woof of the cloth was mine indeed, but he still didn't know what that meant. Part of the message hadn't been deciphered yet and we would have to wait. For the time being, I could go back to Rome.

Kendall was at the door when I stopped him.

"I need to break up with him. I mean Julia will break up with Christopher." I blurted out.

"But I thought you were fine, I mean, I thought you were dealing well with the situation. Has something happened?" he actually sounded concerned.

"I saw him with Lauren Reed." I said in a small voice.

"Where?" he asked surprised.

"Here in LA."

"He's here?..." I nodded my head. "I'm sorry, Sydney, I didn't realize he would be here this weekend. He hasn't seen you, has he?" he was truly worried now.

"No."

"Good." the tone was relieved "But why do you need to break up with him?"

"I just can't do it anymore, Kendall, I'm sorry. I promise you it won't hinder our operation." I assured him.

"I know it won't." he seemed to be searching for words. "Be safe, Sydney."

I think he understood what I was going through.

………………………………………………………

I was lying on my bed Sunday evening a few hours after getting back from LA. I had everything planned. The next morning I'd pull Vaughn aside at the office and tell him we were over. As blunt and borderline cruel as it would be, it was nothing Julia wouldn't do after all.

The doorbell rang, but I didn't move from my spot. Hannah would get it. It was probably Leonid with some message. A couple minutes later, though, I heard the door of my bedroom creak open and Vaughn's voice.

"Are you sleeping?" he asked softly.

"No, just resting my eyes. Come in." I told him and suddenly my plan of ending things didn't seem so simple to accomplish anymore. It was something about his voice, his presence and what it did to me.

"How was Moscow?" he asked sitting on the mattress beside me.

'Moscow?' – I searched my mind – 'Oh, right, I told him I was going to Moscow…' "It was fine, very useful." I said.

He took a strand of my hair in his hand, slid his fingers down it and let it fall back on the pillow where my head was resting. His other hand came to rest on the mattress on other side of my body. He stared at me for a couple seconds with those piercing green eyes I loved so much and I was trying to decide whether I was strong enough to end things right then when he simply asked:

"Will you marry me?" His voice was strong and confident.

I sighed heavily and lifted my body in a sudden move making him recoil, so that I was sitting on the mattress facing him from a relatively safe distance.

"No, I won't" I said in a steady voice that I still don't know how I managed.

He was completely silent for a whole minute.

"Why?" he finally asked sounding confused and hurt.

"I didn't expect you to take me for the bridal type, Chris. I never wanted to get married." I said defensively.

"Okay… true…" – he faltered – "but I felt we had something special; I thought you were really involved in this relationship. I mean, we are serious, aren't we?"

"Yes and that's part of the problem. I've been getting too involved. In fact I was going to end things with you tomorrow morning."

"What?" his voice was weak.

"It's true, I had already decided. You beat me to it. Now, if you could leave… I'm very tired." I needed him to leave before I broke down in front of him.

He had stood up and turned his back to me at some point of my horrible speech. As I said the last sentence, though, he turned to face me again and his stare was so intense that I had to look up at him. I was stunned at what I saw. His face was contorted in an expression of pain he was desperately trying to contain. He faltered and grasped the footboard of my bed for support.

"Christopher?... Are you…" I stood up and took a step towards him, but he stopped me by raising his hand.

"I'm sorry. I misjudged you – us. I didn't know how you really felt… Hell, I didn't know how _I_ really felt. Good bye, Julia." And he almost ran through the door.

"What was that?" Hannah asked coming inside the bedroom.

"He asked me to marry him."

"You mean _Christopher_ asked _Julia_ to marry him…" she corrected me.

"Yeah… well, I don't know, he was so… devastated when I said no… it was almost as if Sydney had said no to Vaughn." I said in a questioning tone. Could it be?

"Wait, why did you say no?" Hannah wasn't aware of my previous decision to get away from Vaughn.

"Because I can't go on with this, Hannah. Just being in a relationship with him is hurting me so much and I know it is hurting him too… I definitely can't marry him."

"Why?" she urged me to say more.

"Because marring Vaughn for such wrong reasons will be like corrupting my dreams; and my dreams and memories are all I have left. The Covenant took me away from my home, my friends, my father, the man I love, my whole life. If I marry Vaughn lying to him and knowing that I'm only an assignment to him I'll be destroying the little part of me I still have."

She nodded her head. "I understand." There was nothing more she could say. "Do you want some company?" she tried.

"No, Hannah. I'd actually like to be alone. I'm sorry." I told her.

"Don't be. I'll be in my bedroom if you need anything." she patted my hand and left.

"Thank you."

The tears started to flow as soon as she left. I cried because I lost Vaughn, because I hurt him, because I was hurting myself by doing so. I cried because I had no home to go back to and because I never would. I cried because I was cold and alone and in pain and there was nothing anyone could do to help me.


	19. Chapter 18

**A/N:** Hello, my dear readers and reviewers. I know I got you worried and a bit anxious, but trust me: the story might be sad right now, but things will get better and I assure you that it has a happy ending. And it is about Vaughn finding out the truth, but it is also about he and Sydney learning that their love is even stronger than they could imagine, regardless of names, aliases and alliances.

So, yes, RocknVaughn, I can tell you: Vaughn will know that his Sydney isn't gone; it might take him a while (sorry milady89), but he will, for sure. Before he does, though, I wanted to take a look into the relationship that "Julia" built with him – hence the long flashback. Eventually we'll get back to the point where they were in the beginning of the story (Prologue and chapters 1 and 2) and see how things go from there.

RocknVaughn, milady89, Ruth, Mari, Brucasforever09, jadeygirl, princessderevko and wray91: your reviews make my day. I'm thrilled that you like the story. Thank you very, very much!

**Chapter eighteen:**

I slept a couple hours that night out of pure exhaustion. I could barely drag myself out of bed the next morning, but after spending three days away I knew I had to go in or Cole was going to freak out, which was the last thing I needed at that point. Hannah tried to make me eat some breakfast but I couldn't swallow anything. I felt sick and sad and nervous. I drove to the office wondering if Vaughn would be there and how it would be to see him again.

Leonid and Weiss were chatting when I arrived and they both answered my "good morning" with cheerful smiles. It seemed that the news hadn't spread yet. I hadn't quite made it to my desk when Cole came to the door and asked me to follow him to his office. I couldn't read his expression, but I was quite sure he wanted to talk about the Loom's message. He must have deciphered it by then.

"Sit down, Julia. We have great news." He pointed me to a chair opposite to his desk and closed the door behind him. "We were able to decrypt Rambaldi's message."

"Really? What was it?" I asked trying to sound interested. I knew all the Covenant had was a fake message.

"See for yourself." He said handing me a sheet of paper.

_There is one that has a head without an eye,  
And there's one that has an eye without a head.  
You may find the answer if you try;  
And when all is said,  
Half the answer hangs upon a thread._

Trust Marshall to put a smile upon my face. He had to be suffering from severe sleep deprivation from having a one-month-old baby at home to dare such a bold move. I wondered how long it would take for Cole to realize that all that "Rambaldi" had to offer him was a variation of a child's riddle and start questioning that. But when I looked at Cole sitting behind his desk all he said was:

"Go on, put your team together, you guys have an answer to find." Apparently he couldn't understand why I was still sitting there in front of him with such an important task at hand.

"Okay…" I said slowly, standing up and walking to the door.

I was still quite in shock with Cole's stupidity – couldn't he really solve that riddle? could he really believe that _that_ was a message from Rambaldi? – when I entered my office and reached my desk. I sat down on my chair staring blankly at the page still in my hands when I sensed the change in the room's atmosphere and raised my head to see Vaughn leaning on his desk, watching me. My glance reached his face and the mixture of anger, pain and confusion I saw on it scared me.

"Hi, Christopher. I hadn't seen you." I greeted, my voice so steady that it sounded robotic.

"Who do you think you are?" he hissed.

"I beg your pardon?" I wrapped myself in Julia as if my alias was a trenched blanket that could protect me from the flames.

"You think you can play with people, with their feelings; you think you can use them as long as you want and then dump them when you get bored or when they're not useful anymore." he said sternly, taking a step closer to me. Weiss and Leonid exchanged a surprised and confused glance.

Vaughn's assessment of Julia was correct, but something in his tone, its angry honesty, hurt me deeply, as if he was talking about _me_, as if he was accusing _me_ of being that selfish bitch. And as I turned to my safety resort, to the one thing I had learned could make me feel better whenever I was that hurt – his eyes – all I saw in them was despise. He had never looked at me that way before, ever. My ally had turned into my worst enemy and I felt cornered, like a pet that watches its master turn against it and has no other option but attack the one person it could trust. I rose from my seat and walked around my desk coming to stand in front of him.

"Yes, Christopher, I do play with people; and people's feelings don't mean all that much to me" – I replied in an ice-cold tone; that was Julia – "but I'm not the one using someone here." – that was Sydney saying something she shouldn't, but too hurt to care.

The first reaction his eyes registered was one of pure shock, before any rational thought could have intervened; then his brow furrowed and I could clearly read the question 'does she know?' encrypted in his wrinkles; but finally he opted for indignant sarcasm, which spread over his face. He snorted and released his poison – a poison I didn't know he had in him – on my already much wounded soul.

"Are you accusing me of using you?! What use would you have to me, to _anyone_? You are a capable contract killer? You are a Rambaldi expert? You are a nice enough woman in bed? That's nothing I couldn't find elsewhere; _anywhere_. That's nothing I couldn't _pay_ _anyone_ for." I had never sensed so much despise in anyone's voice.

"Christopher!" Weiss hissed warningly.

Leonid was frozen on his spot.

One hundred daggers plunged into my body. I wanted to close my eyes, just for a second; I wanted to shed only one tear; I wanted to let out a quiet scream; I wanted to slid graciously and slowly to the ground; I wanted to run to… to whom? It was Vaughn doing that to me.

And I was Julia Thorne. I couldn't do any of that; I had to answer.

"You are just a pretty boy who is not worth much. You think you are strong and smart, maybe even noble in some twisted way – you are not. You think you know life and love and pain – you do not. You think you can judge me – you cannot." I ran my hand softly down the side of his face. It wasn't a caress; it wasn't a gesture of love; it was a statement of strength. He didn't react in any way. I turned to Weiss and Leonid, my voice calm and clean as if nothing had happened: "We are having a briefing in ten minutes."

I walked out of the room, my pace incredibly steady. The elevator took me to the roof and I finally crumpled down, overcome by heart wrenching sobs, under Rome clear sky.

……………………………………………………

No longer than seven minutes later I composedly walked down the hallway leading to the briefing room. As I turned the last corner, though, Weiss's voice reached my ears and I glued my body to the wall right beside the door to spy on my former friends once more.

"What was that?" Weiss had asked, clearly making an effort to keep his cool.

"I asked her to marry me. She said no." Vaughn answered dryly.

"Okay. And?" he was fishing.

"And it will ruin my assignment and hinder our whole operation. She is my main source of intel." Vaughn said as if it was obvious.

"She is also Sydney."

"No she is not! This is all you say, Eric! Stop that. She is Julia Thorne, my assignment."

"An assignment wouldn't fuel the passion I just witnessed." Weiss countered.

"What?! Are you suggesting that that woman means anything to me?" he sounded indignant.

"That woman is Sydney and you clearly know this." Weiss kept his cool.

"I would never say those things to Sydney." Vaughn said forcefully.

"You just did." Weiss retorted.

Vaughn was dead silent and Weiss tried a different approach.

"I know that everything you said, you said to Julia, it's just that you wouldn't say anything even close to that to anyone, unless this person had really, really gotten to you."

They were quiet for a moment, but then Vaughn opened up.

"Last night, when I proposed to her, I was just carrying out my assignment, I was completely detached from everything, I knew perfectly well that she was Julia Thorne, former contract killer, dangerous terrorist who I had seduced and who I was going to marry in order to gather intel for the CIA. But then she said 'no', which I didn't really expected, and all of a sudden I was there asking Sydney to marry me and she was saying 'no'. And I know, I know she is not Sydney, but still… it hurt." his voice was strained and I could almost hear tears in it.

"Sorry, man." Weiss said with a helpless sigh. There was nothing else to say.

……………………………………………….

I took a deep breath and intentionally made some noise before entering the room, just in time to see Weiss close his bug-killer pen. ('No technology could stop a curious woman from eavesdroping behind a door', I thought.)

I didn't quite know how I felt or how I should feel. Weiss was right: Vaughn wouldn't have said what he said to me to anyone ever unless he was very, very hurt. He had tried to tell me that I was nothing, that I meant nothing to him or to anyone for that matter, but the simple fact that he had told me that, being who he was, disavowed his speech all together. If he believed what he had said, he was in denial. If he didn't, he had some utter need to prove to me and to himself that he would be just fine without me. Either way, for some reason Julia had come to mean a lot to him.

I had been so angry, I had felt so betrayed, but in that moment, minutes after the worst argument I had ever had with anyone in my life – and that included my father –, all I wanted to do was cradle him in my arms, let him cradle me in his and tell him that everything would be ok. I walked straight to my chair at the end of the table, though, and sat down not looking to Vaughn or Weiss. Leonid arrived as I opened the file I had brought with me. I passed each of them a copy of the "message".

"That's the text encrypted in the woof produced by the Rambaldi Loom." I said in a neutral tone.

All three concentrated on the page in front of them. It didn't take more than a second to Leonid look at me with a 'you've got to be kidding me' expression and to Weiss and Vaughn exchange a glare. The situation was ludicrous, actually. All of us knew that that wasn't Rambaldi's message and all of us realized that the CIA had done a very lousy job trying to hide it. None of us could say a thing, though.

"Are we supposed to solve the charade?" Leonid asked, honestly trying to take any shadow of mockery from his voice and pronounce 'charade' as if he was Oedipus facing the Sphinx.

"Yes…" I started to answer, but Vaughn cut me with a gasp.

"Solve it? Anyone knows the answer to this thing." He rolled his eyes and I glared at him.

"Actually, I don't." Weiss said quickly, trying to save the situation.

"Pin and needle." Vaughn and I said at the same time.

"Cute" Leonid chuckled.

"What is 'cute', Leonid?" Vaughn asked preparing himself to punch Leonid right on the face, or so it seemed.

"The… answer." Leonid said, his voice trembling.

I didn't know if it was Leonid's fear or Vaughn's ferocity making me smile inwardly.

"What we have to do is figure out what the answer means." I said patiently as a kinder garden teacher talking to her class.

"It's a message from a loom. It makes total sense that it's about pins and needles and thread. Rambaldi is prophesying notions." Vaughn said as if it was a very serious theory.

"Notions of what?" Leonid said not catching the joke.

I tried to stifle my laughter but it came out in a funny weird sound. I bend my head down and when I looked up again I caught Vaughn looking at me sideways with a hint of a smile.

"Leonid, Americans call pins, needles, buttons and such things 'notions'." I explained "But I seriously doubt that Rambaldi would devote his time to conceive a formula to a notions' store stock, Christopher." I turned to Vaughn.

"You don't? The guy was just a lunatic with too much free time." He said sternly, no trace of smile.

"Ok, ok, kids. Maybe we need to go back to the text of the riddle itself and see if there are other possible answers." that was, very surprisingly, Weiss.

"_One that has a head without an eye_"–Leonid started – "what could this mean?"

"Could be garlic!" Weiss was back to his playful self.

'Oh, Marshall had to be here to see how far his little joke is going' I thought fighting to keep a straight face.

"_One that has an eye without a head_ – this one is tougher" Leonid mused out loud.

I couldn't believe that my job as a double agent infiltrating a terrorist organization had come to that.

"Maybe it's a mythological reference." Vaughn tried and I turned to him in surprise. There he was, the responsible agent.

"I think you're right." I encouraged. We had at least to pretend that the thing was serious.

"_And when all is said / half the answer hangs upon a thread_. – what about this?" Leonid asked.

"Maybe we should forget the woof and the Loom and go back to the thread itself – the one you got in Normandy?" Weiss suggested. I could tell he was having fun with that.

"You're all about 'going back' today." There was a note of melancholy in the way Vaughn emphasized the words _going back_ that didn't go unnoticed to me.

"It's nice, isn't it? To be able to go back, to think things over again, to search for different answers…" The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them and all of a sudden that ridiculous game had turned into something very serious. Weiss and Leonid faded away at the corner of my eyes, as if Vaughn and I were alone in that briefing room.

Vaughn stared at me and I could see the velvety quality coming back to his green eyes.

"Do you think all is said?" he asked me softly quoting the riddle giving it a whole different meaning.

"For now…" I said.

"Is this half the answer?" his voice caressed me.

"Yes."

He rose from his chair and came to stand next to mine. I turned a quarter of a circle and lifted my face so I could look at him.

"I need it all – the answer." he said.

I inhaled deeply. The world seemed to go into slow motion.

"Ask me the question." My voice was barely above a whisper.

He got down on one knee and I watched him in awe.

"Will you marry me?" I could hear a soft smile in his voice.

"Yes." I said simply.

He cupped my face in his hand caressing my cheek with his thumb and we locked eyes for what seemed an eternity.

'I'm going to marry Vaughn.' I thought to myself, floating with joy. It was funny how things could be so wrong and so right at the same time.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter nineteen:**

We chose the Saint Catherine's Temple in Sienna for the wedding. It stood on the top of a hill overlooking the green fields of Tuscany, with their cypresses, their vineyards and their ocher villas. I had been there years before, on an early mission for SD-6, and entering the chapel had felt like going into the temple of color. The ceiling, the walls, every single altar inside displayed beautiful paintings of Saint Catherine's life in soft pink, blue, yellow and green. The soft light filtering through the narrow windows reached every spot inside highlighting the colorful interior and making it a joyful, perfect place.

Julia was supposed to have a catholic background, hence the church wedding. In Rome we could have chosen among hundreds of temples, but I didn't want to do it there, because I was hoping to get free from most of my Covenant colleagues. Sienna was two hours away: not too far, but enough to discourage people. So I talked to Vaughn about Saint Catherine's and we went there together two weeks after our peculiar engagement in the middle of a briefing. As soon as he entered the chapel I knew he loved it as much as I did. It was a hot sunny day in late august and we had to wait more than an hour for the priest, who was taking his siesta. We sat side by side on the wall surrounding the temple's patio and I let my eyes drift to the beautiful landscape streched below us, enjoying the warm wind blowing through my hair and Vaughn's closeness.

My troubled life, full of deceit, evil and sadness seemed easier and almost, almost happy as I touched the engagement ring on my finger. (It is a white gold band with a heart shape emerald skirted by three delicate diamonds arranged in a triangle on each side. Vaughn told me it was an antique he got from a jewelry dealer in his trip to Barcelona. I know that at least the Barcelona part of the story is a lie – he was in Los Angeles that weekend before our engagement – but my ring does look like an antique and no matter what it is the most beautiful piece of jewelery I have ever laid my eyes on. Plus, having that emerald shining on my finger makes me think of Vaughn's eyes, which I wish I could always see sparkling at me. I have loved my ring from the moment I saw it for the first time and I hope I'll never have to separate from it.) Sitting on that stone wall beside the man who would become my husband, I thought back to the path that had brought us to that point. It was tragic and sad and twisted, but it was also a beautiful story, of friendship and loyalty and love. I felt proud to be part of it.

"What are you thinking?" Vaughn gently brought me out of the contemplative moment I was having.

I remained silent, but turned my head to him with a smile.

"When do you want to get married?" he asked.

"As soon as possible. It will be a small wedding, shouldn't take long to prepare. We do need a place to live, though. Your apartment is too small, so is mine."

"I'm on it, don't worry." He said all cryptic.

"You are?" I wasn't expecting that.

"I'm not saying anything else. It's a surprise." He said in a fake stern tone.

"Okay…" I said doubtiful.

We were silent for a moment.

"How does October 1st sound to you?" he asked.

For a second I forgot how to breathe. Maybe I should have, but I hadn't seen that coming at all. Why was he suggesting October 1st? It felt so… so real. It was our day; Vaughn and Sydney's, not Julia and Christopher's. And it made me wonder how real that wedding was to Vaughn, how real could that marriage become to him. Maybe, though, he was just closing the circle; it made sense. Maybe he didn't want to be reminded of me more than a day in the year after our ways parted once more and for good. October first was already lost; he didn't need to lose another date in his lifetime with Lauren. I didn't want to be bitter, though, so I forced those thoughts out of my mind and went back to the happy ones.

"It sounds perfect." I said. I should probably add something about it not being too hot anymore or too cold yet, but I didn't want too, because October 1st was perfect in itself and I wanted it to become Vaughn's and my wedding day.

He smiled and took my hand entwining our fingers.

We talked to the priest who was a very nice man in his seventies and he seemed delighted with the idea of celebrating our wedding. I wanted to do it in the morning so we set the ceremony to eleven o'clock on October 1st, which would be a Friday that year. As we wouldn't have many guests the priest suggested that we used the patio to hold a very small reception: a typical Tuscan lunch, good wine and a wedding cake. He even recommended a catering service we could use and offered to take care of the flowers for the chapel – apparently his brother owned a local flower shop.

That evening when Vaughn and I drove back to Rome after tasting every possible flavor of cake – we chose almond with sabayon filling – we had almost everything sorted out. He told me he would take care of the invitations as I didn't have a list of my own – Julia didn't have any family left and no personal friends. Weiss would be Vaughn's best man, but I didn't want a bride's maid, though I knew Hannah would be there to help me with whatever I needed. All I had to do was find a wedding dress.

………………………………………….

I had never missed Francie so much. I almost broke into tears in the fitting room of the bridal shop as I stared at my own reflection in the mirror dressed in an off-white taffeta dress. I wasn't supposed to go through that alone, nobody was. That wedding might have been a pretense, but my feelings about it were not. I was standing in front of that mirror trying wedding dresses to marry the man I loved, the only one I knew I would ever want to marry, and I was completely alone.

Vaughn had been absolutely perfect about everything concerning the wedding. He had actually been participating of the whole thing more than I would expect any groom to, but I couldn't bring him to the bridal shop with me. I needed someone else here, I needed… That was exactly the moment when she showed up – my mother. Suddenly her reflexion appeared beside mine in the mirror.

"Mom…" I gasped, turning to face her.

"Hello, sweetheart." she greeted me with a broad smile.

"What are you doing here? This is not safe at all." My words said one thing, the relief and the joy in my voice meant the opposite.

"You're picking up your wedding dress. I had to be here with you." She explained calmly and I gave up being responsible.

"Thank you, Mom."

"You're very welcome, sweetheart. And this one looks nice on you, but I don't think it is the one." she said referring to the dress.

"Me neither" I agreed with my spirits much higher "Let's see the next one!" She smiled at my excitement.

The second dress looked better on the hanger; the third one was a bit over the top; the fourth one was perfect. It was a strapless pearl-colored satin dress covered with fine lace embroidered with delicate bunches of leaves and flowers and very small pearls here and there. The lace fell down the floating satin skirt reaching the ground and finished the dress with a five palm train on the back. It was simple and discreet and beautiful. Something about it made me think of old stories of long-lasting love and antique silver picture frames.

Mom suggested that I wore my hair up with pearl pins on a loose bun. I clipped my hair using hairgrips to have an idea of how that would be and when I was finished she took the choker she was wearing and secured it around my neck.

"You look so beautiful, Sydney." She whispered into my ear.

"Thank you, Mom."

"You might not see me on your wedding day, but I'll be seeing you." she promised cupping my face in her hands "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too, Mom." I said.

And she was gone.

………………………………………………………

Vaughn took me to dinner that evening. Everything was set for the wedding: licenses obtained, invitations sent, flowers and catering service paid for. Weiss would be our photographer. Vaughn got his suit, I got my dress and Cole, in a rapture of generosity, would give us a week off so we could have a honeymoon. Vaughn suggested Paris, to which I agreed happily.

"We're still homeless, though." I said half serious.

"No we are not. I closed the deal last week and I'm taking you there next week."

"There?" I insisted.

"Don't push. Can't you wait a few more days?" he asked with an evil grin.

"Fine." I sighed. "What's wrong?" I asked as his expression changed to a serious one.

"I need to go away for the weekend." he said apologetically.

I felt a searing pain slice through my body: it was his weekend in LA and I didn't have the slightest idea of how things would go there. Lauren Reed couldn't be very pleased with the fact that her boyfriend was going to marry another woman – who happened to be his former dead girlfriend turned into a terrorist – in two weeks; I had asked myself one thousand times how she could accept that, but then, I was accepting it too, wasn't I? Anyway, something about that weekend was making me especially anxious.

"Okay. Will you be back on Monday?"

"Yes and then we're going to see the house, I promise."

"House?!" I was truly surprised.

"Oh damn…" he slapped his forehead playfully as if he had not intended to let that piece of information out.

"Is it really a house?" I gapped at him.

"I'm saying no more." he warned me with a huge smile.

"Ok, ok, I'll wait." I agreed.

"Good girl."

He stole a spoonful of my chocolate mousse and I laughed.

………………………………………………

I tried to concentrate on work the whole weekend so I didn't have to think of what could be going on in LA. Vaughn was probably explaining to Lauren that I didn't mean anything to him, that our wedding was nothing but a pretense, that she was the only woman in his life… and imagining this was making me angry and jealous and miserable. Sunday afternoon I was feeling so frustrated that I just had to do something, so I put some clothes on and took a cab to Piazza di Spagna. It was a sunny day and the square was full of people. I bought a cone of peach ice cream and sat by the stairway watching the tourists looking at everything with wide eyes, the crazy Romans with their motorcycles and many, many families enjoying their free afternoon.

"Hey, Julia!" Weiss sat beside me.

"Hi, Fred." I smiled. He had a large bowl full of chocolate ice cream.

"What are you doing here?" he stopped and lowered his voice "Wait: are you working? Is this a surveillance?"

"And the ice cream is my disguise? No." I chuckled "I'm just enjoying the sun. You know, Chris is out of town and I got bored alone in my apartment."

"Oh, would you like some company?" he asked carefully.

"Actually I would. Shall we take a walk?" I suggested.

"Sure." He seemed truly happy.

"So, is everything ready for the big day?"

"Yes. Twelve days to go now."

"And nobody is counting…" he mocked.

"Well, it is my wedding."

"I'm very, very happy for you and Chris." he said.

"Thank you."

"No; I mean, I'm not just being polite, I'm _really_ happy that you get to do this." His tone was very serious and it made me look at him. I could tell he was sincere.

"You are a good friend, Fred." I gave him a dimpled smile and enlaced my arm with his. It was all I could do; to Julia, it might even have been a bit too much.

……………………………………………….

When my phone rang early on Monday morning I was sure it would be Vaughn telling me we could go see the house and I was actually excited about it. But it was Kendall, who asked me to meet him at the usual place in an hour. His voice sounded softer, even on the phone, and it worried me.

"Good morning" I greeted. He turned to face me and just stood there, silent. I wish he had never spoken.

"Vaughn proposed to Lauren Reed."

It felt like a punch in the stomach. The searing pain I had felt days before when Vaughn told me he was going away for the weekend came back one hundred times stronger and radiated through my body. I couldn't move. I felt tears coming to my eyes, falling down my face, but I couldn't even raise my hand to wipe them away. My knees gave way and I started falling, but Kendall steadied me with his hands on my arms.

"I'm sorry" he said.

"How did you know? Who told you?" I asked as soon as I regained my voice.

"No one told me. I was there when he did it." He answered slowly.

"What? How?"

"They were at the Rotunda Saturday morning. She's been working there as the NSC liaison. They were having an argument, about you and the wedding, I suppose. She was about to walk away from him when he grabbed her arm and said he wanted to marry her." – he paused – She said yes."

"What she said doesn't matter all that much." I said softly. It was him I was losing. "How am I supposed to go on with this, Kendall?" I asked helplessly.

"You have to go on with this, Sydney, you know this."

"I do. And I'm not saying I won't. I'm simply wondering how."

He said nothing.

"How am I going to look at Vaughn?" my voice had a note of desperation.

"Maybe you should go away for a couple days." he suggested.

"The wedding is in ten days. He's taking me to see our house today. How am I going to go away?"

"Have Cole send you on a mission. Tell him you got intel about the possible location of a Rambaldi artifact. We can make it believable."

"Would you do that for me?" I was truly surprised.

"Sydney, I know you think Vaughn was the best handler anyone could ever have and I can't say I'd do what he did for you, even when the two of you were just starting to work together, but I can be a nice handler – and a good friend for you too."

"Thank you, Kendall. Thank you very much." I said honestly.

"I'll have something for you in two hours. Go to the office. I'll have Lisenker hand over the files you'll need."

"Okay." I said.

Kendall sent me information about an artifact which Project Black Hole already had. Cole didn't know that, though, and was very excited with what I showed him. He told me he was sorry about sending me on a mission so soon before the big day, but I would have to leave to Prague that afternoon. Vaughn hadn't arrived at the office yet, which made things easier. I left him a voice mail explaining what was going on and telling him I would be back as soon as possible, probably on Wednesday. And I was gone.


	21. Chapter 20

**A/N:**Hey,guys! Once more, thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

Please don't throw things at Vaughn (or me). As I see it, he is just too hurt, too lost, too afraid and, most of all, feeling too guilt (for not being able to protect Sydney; for not having found her sooner), to see things straight and make them right. He'll get better, though, you'll see. He is Vaughn, he deserves a chance; don't you think? ; )

Kim and milady89, you're both right about Weiss. He is figuring things out. (Someone had to, right?)

RocknVaughn, thank you for asking about Lauren; this is something I should have made clear from the beginning: Lauren won't be Covenant in this story. Not that I like her or anything (I don't!), but you see, it would be impossible for Vaughn and Weiss to maintain cover if she was a mole. Plus, I always felt that making her a traitor was an easy way out of the mess in season three and it wasn't necessarily for the best. I mean, I actually like season three (I know, I know: I'm a masochist…), but I'd much rather see Vaughn go back to Sydney _only_ because he realized that he loved her – and only her.

Anyway, let's go back to the story. Love you all.

Monica

**Chapter twenty**

I wandered around Prague for the next days. Vaughn tried my cell several times, but I simply didn't answer. I didn't think I could handle talking to him. I knew I would have to figure things out eventually, but it was just too soon. I needed time.

One late afternoon, walking down a narrow alley, I saw a symbol on a shop window that I recognized. It was the picture stamped on my mother's books, the first editions my father had bought her during their marriage. That was the bookstore they had found together on a trip to Prague, where he would return many times later in a gesture of love that would end up helping her hideous KGB assignment to succeed.

_All my love, forever and a day__…_ he had written in every single one of those books. The KGB had used them to send encrypted messages to their asset; orders to kill CIA agents; Vaughn's father. Still, those books made me think of a love so deep, so strong, that it could beat all the time in the world. And in fact my father's love for my mother had gone beyond her death, beyond the discovery of her betrayal, beyond her coming back as Irina Derevko and her second betrayal. I was that love's child. I had it in me, carved in every fiber of my being. I was made of that love and I knew it was that love I felt for Vaughn.

So I went inside that little shop and asked the clerk if they had any first editions by Tolstoy. He showed me the thick volume of _Anna Karenina_. I went back to my hotel holding that Tolstoy-long book in my arms and I called Vaughn to tell him I'd be in Rome the next morning.

……………………………………………..

When I arrived at the airport Thursday morning Vaughn was there waiting for me.

"I was so worried" he said hugging me tightly "I tried to call you so many times..."

"I'm sorry. I'm here now." I gave him a sad smile.

"Are you all right?" he asked, and I knew he wasn't fishing for anything.

"Yes, I am." I answered trying to sound normal.

"Shall we go see our house, then?" he cocked his head slightly with a smile.

"Yes, of course."

We drove to the Ancient Apian Way, a cobblestone paved road from the times of the Roman Empire, and crossed _Porta San Sebastiano_, one of the many doors to the ancient city of Rome, taking a curvy road surrounded by trees. It was late September, and the yellow-brown leaves were beginning to fall, giving the landscape shades of gold. I felt as if I was getting into a different reality. Vaughn stopped the car at the end of the road, in front of an impressive gate, which opened to reveal a large lawn. Standing on the center of it, I saw a huge two-story house, surrounded by cypresses. I fell in love with our villa at first sight. The ocher shade on the walls and an ancient fountain on the front yard gave it an antique-like quality, but the green ivy climbing up the walls broke the excessive sobriety the place might display.

Vaughn let me out of the car and took my hand, leading me to the entrance, a double-arched porch with marble floor. He opened the heavy wooden double door letting me into the foyer. Inside the walls were painted in soft yellow and the arched ceiling in white. A Persian carpet covered the marble floor and beautiful still-life paintings showing flowers and fruits adorned the walls. A double glass door at the back of the foyer seemed to open to a conservatory. I started to walk in that direction, but Vaughn stopped me. "Later" he said softly – it was the rose garden, as I would soon find out.

To the left of the foyer I found two large rooms with big fireplaces but without any furniture – "I thought we could have some fun decorating" – Vaughn explained – and a fully equipped kitchen, from which a narrow stone stairwell led to a wine cellar. I was speechless and Vaughn watched me seeming quite pleased.

"Given what you do every time we enter a simple hotel room, I thought I should give you a house with plenty of place for you to put your 'spy sense' into action" he said with a glint of laughter. I gave him a smile.

I went back to the foyer and crossed it getting to the right wing of the house, entering another unfurnished room. A very elegant marble stairway landed there and large window panes let the sun light inside. They seemed to overlook the conservatory or internal patio or whatever was that area I had glimpsed before through the glass doors on the foyer and I went to look out them, but once more Vaughn stopped me.

"We'll see that later." He told me faking severity and I eyed him curiously.

"This room is gorgeous." I said spinning around.

"It is, isn't it? There's an old grand piano in the garage, left by the former owner. I thought we could have it restored and put it here." Vaughn said behind me and I remembered the piano in his house in Normandy.

"Lovely idea. I play it, you know? The piano." I turned to face him.

"You do?" He was very surprised and in fact I had never mentioned that to him, not as Sydney, not as Julia. "That's great. We can play together." He smiled. "I used to do it with my mother a lot."

"I'd like that." I smiled. "Should we go upstairs now?"

"I think you should see the library first."

"There is a library?!"

"Follow me" he said nodding his head and laughing softly at my excitement, leading the way to a large room in which the walls were covered with completely filled wooden bookcases from ground to ceiling. At the center a very cozy-looking couch and two armchairs created a perfect place to read. I had always dreamed about a house with a library, and there it was.

"We also have a great study back there" he told me.

We walked in a spacious room with two desks opposite to each other.

"I like working close to you." He said with a smile. "That's how everything started, right?" That was absolutely true.

"Yes." I said as memories washed through me "Yes, it was."

I was still so upset about him and Lauren, but that tour around the house was bringing down all my defenses. I couldn't deny myself the happiness that home promised, as short as it might be.

"Shall we go upstairs now?" he asked.

"Yeah."

The second floor had a cozy TV room, five bedrooms and a master suite. The bedrooms were fully furnished, with bedspreads and all. The master suite, though, was naked.

"It's our bedroom. I thought we should pick every single piece for it together." He said hugging me from behind, sneaking his arms around my waist.

"I like that." I said, letting the double meaning clear.

"I really missed you these last days." He said softly, burying his face into my neck.

I closed my eyes, wishing that that could be true, wishing that I could believe him.

We stood there together for a moment and then he asked if I wanted to see the attic.

"There's an attic too?! God, this is much better than a castle in the Black Forest!" I exclaimed recalling our aliases at the German Embassy party and their fairytale residence.

"Well, I was hoping you would think so" he chuckled "but the attic is only a dusty empty place, at least for now."

He guided me up the narrow stairs to a large room which seemed abandoned.

"Maybe we could have a game room here. We could get a pool table, you know." I suggested.

"A pool – a pool table?" he stammered.

"Bad idea?" I asked, knowing that it wasn't.

"No! That's a great idea." He smiled broadly and somewhat surprised.

"So that's what we'll do." I smiled back.

"Well, the only problem with having a pool table in the attic is that we might have a hard time kicking Fred out of here." he pointed.

"Oh, that's not such a problem! I like Fred. We had ice cream together last Sunday, did he tell you?"

"Yes he did. And he seemed quite pleased about it." he made a face.

"What?" I asked.

"Are you planning on swapping fiancés?" he snapped playfully.

"No." I said – 'though I probably should' – I wanted to add – 'since mine has another fiancée.'

"Good. Let's go back downstairs, now. I have one last thing to show you." he said grinning.

"Okay."

He took me to the foyer and led me towards the glass door, covering my eyes with his hands.

"Stay here for a second and keep your eyes closed" he instructed.

I heard him opening the door widely and felt him back by my side.

"Now you can open your eyes." He finally said.

As soon as I opened them I gasped. I loved that house already, it was impossible not to, everything about it was perfect, but nothing could have prepared me for the rose garden. I crossed the doorway, went down the few steps leading to it and simply stood there, staring at that place. It was like a dream. The ground was paved with cobblestones, which also demarcated the flower beds, of which there were many, all of them with rosebushes, all of them already with buds, some with fully bloomed roses of many different colors. It was just beautiful. And when he touched my hand lightly, smiled to me like he used to when I was his Sydney and told me that he had made that garden for me, I felt my love for him spread through my body in waves of warmness and happiness and sadness and pain. That was the most intense moment of my life. It was like having my whole lifetime concentrated in one single moment of truth, of full conscience. And what I saw then, what I learned in that moment of epiphany was that my love for Vaughn was the innermost principle, the innermost strength of my being; it defined who I was, it guided every single thing I had ever done and would ever do; it was who _I_ was; and it would always be, through the smiles and the tears, the joy and the sorrow, the pain and the happiness it brought me. There was no fighting that; I couldn't and I didn't want to fight that.


	22. Chapter 21

**A/N: **Hello, all of you!

Ruth, I'm glad you liked the villa. I actually think of it as another character of the story, more than a simple setting to it; and I wanted to make it a place that could reflect both Sydney-Vaughn and Julia-Christopher, you know? A place where these two "realities" could meet and mingle.

milady89: yeah, I know: Vaughn is definitely not at his best behavior at this point of the story… And I wasn't complaining: I really liked your reaction. It's amazing how fictional characters can make us love them and hate them, sometimes more than real people do, isn't it?

RocknVaughn, I don't mind you "writing" my story at all, it's actually quite an honor, and I love your ideas. Let me see what I could tell you… well, the watch and the picture frame will make an appearance in the near future, but that's all I'm saying. You'll just have to wait and read.

Thank you to everyone who's been reading! And let's go on with the story.

**Chapter twenty one**

I remember that day quite well. It was a sunny day in Los Angeles, but I was wearing heavy boots, dark denims and a black sweater. My face was a mask of heavy make up, tear stains, swelling and pretense. My hair floated in the rhythm of my pace and my eyes, which were dark pools of both pain and determination, got glimpses of the bright red shade of my strands.

The secretary I first spoke to eyed me suspiciously: she was a CIA employee; I was a walk-in. I had asked to see Director Devlin, but it was a young agent who was waiting at the elevator hall on the ninth floor. I didn't exactly look at the man, making good use of the red matted hair falling over my face – for once I didn't tuck it behind my ear; it was my shield, my bright red shield. The tone of his voice thanking the secretary, though, struck me. At that point I knew two things about him: he wore an elegant grey suit and he was, more than a polite gentleman, a truly kind person. I was not sure I appreciated that, not under those circumstances.

"I'm Agent Vaughn. Please follow me." His voice was warm. I didn't raise my eyes to his, but I knew his stare wasn't suspicious – curious, intrigued, maybe, but not judgmental. He took me to what seemed a small meeting room and pointed me to a chair beside the table.

"Can I get you a soda?" was his next line. That was certainly unexpected. How weird was it that the CIA protocol seemed close enough to the typical social call etiquette… I furrowed my brow, but kept my eyes downcast.

"I could use some coffee." I said softly.

"Sure. I'll get you some." he sounded pleased and I remember thinking that perhaps I was the first one to take him up on a drink, at least in that kind of situation. He left the room for a couple minutes and came back with coffee. I took a sip. It was strong and sweet.

My "thank you" was barely audible.

"You're welcome. So, what's your story?" he asked sitting in the chair next to mine.

"My name is Sydney Bristow. I am a field officer with SD-6. I'm here because I want to become a double agent." I didn't bother telling him that I wasn't a bad guy, that I had been lied to, that until a few days before I believed I was fighting for the right side – his side – and not against it. Still, he kept talking to me in this gentle way, as if I hadn't just told him that I worked for a criminal organization.

"Okay, Sydney. As a first step, we'll need you to write a statement detailing your involvement with SD-6, your status within the organization, whatever information you have on it." He handed me pen and paper. The door opened behind us and I heard someone coming in, but remained still. "I'll leave Agent Weiss here with you. Take your time."

He came back a couple hours later bringing more coffee and doughnuts. I tried to ignore his kindness the best I could; I tried to show him that I was ignoring it. It takes a lot to scare me, but that really scared me. I didn't want that guy to be nice to me; I didn't want him thinking I was weak or hurt; I didn't want him feeling that I needed to be taken care of. I had to be strong and I had to prove to myself that I could survive all that on my own – that's what kept me going. I wouldn't let him mess with it.

I actually saw his face for the first time in the picture in his office – he was hugging a petite blonde woman, both of them smiling. That was safe; the picture wouldn't look back at me with kind eyes. But he caught me staring at it as he entered the room and turned the frame backwards. It was then that I knew I was in trouble, because what he did hurt me and I couldn't understand why. He had every right not to want me getting into his personal life, he had no reason to trust me, but still… I had turned down his kindness, but when he shut me out I felt bad. (It would take me months to realize that maybe he just didn't want me to see him with Alice. He was so horrified that I had thought they were married at some point…) Anyway, that unjustified but still undeniable sense of painful rejection was probably what made me finally raise my eyes and look up to his face when he told me he had an instinct about me. And I smiled back at him, tearing my mask, opening myself, for the very first time, to those gorgeous green eyes that would light my way through the darkness.

Three years later, as I walked down the aisle, surrounded by colors and light and flowers, our first meeting played again on my mind and it was still those eyes that guided me. Dressed in my beautiful pearl-colored wedding dress, a few strings of brown hair dancing around my face, soft make up and no tear stains or swelling on my cheeks, I let my memory travel back to that other October first: the day I met the man who, by all means, would become the love of my life. Not because of fate or destiny or something he and I were given, but because of our own choices, because of our decision to trust and protect each other and stand by one another – our silent pact of loyalty that became a pact of love. He might have had an instinct – I had one too, but we acted on it by choice and for love.

Taking my last steps up to the altar, I smiled at Vaughn waiting there for me; he smiled back, our eyes locked and I knew there was no one else that could ever be at that place: he was the one. He was my groom, my husband, the man I was supposed to share my life with. That was as true, as real, as right as it could be.

Nothing else mattered at that moment: I forgot that that ceremony was supposed to be a façade, and Lauren Reed, the NSC, the CIA, the Covenant vanished from my mind all together. All I could think about was that Vaughn and I were getting married; we had done it, we had won; we had ended up together; the only fairytale I had ever dared to believe in was coming true. Of course I wished that my parents and my friends could have been there with me, but even that didn't seem so important anymore. It was our moment, Vaughn's and mine; the most important and the happiest moment of our lives. He held out his hand to me with a bright smile when I was a step away from him and we went to stand in front of the altar.

The priest spoke about love and its mysterious strength; it could bond differences, transform lives, make the impossible possible. It would take two people living their own little lives and give them the power to create a whole new world together. It would overcome any obstacle and go beyond any limit. I knew that; I had learned that with Vaughn. Somehow the love we shared had gone beyond death and pretense. I didn't – I couldn't question that at that moment, and feeling the warmth of his hand holding mine was all the reassurance I needed. As he slid the wedding ring on my finger promising to love and to cherish me for as long as we both should live, I believed him with my whole heart. And I had never meant anything more honestly than when I promised to be his wife and to share my life with him, in joy and in sorrow, in health and in sickness, in richness and in poorness.

A single tear rolled down my face when the priest pronounced us husband and wife. Vaughn brought my face to his caressing my jaw with his hand and kissed me softly. I will never forget that moment. I let my forehead rest together with his, stared deeply into the green of his eyes and knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

He took my hand and we made our way out of the chapel, our twenty guests clapping as we went. Weiss hugged us together right outside the porch and I could tell he was truly happy. He patted Vaughn on the back, to what my husband nodded in understanding. I wondered what that could have been about; maybe some pre-wedding conversation. Leonid hugged me too, whispering close to my ear:

"I don't get it, but I've never seen you this happy, so… congratulations." He still didn't know who Vaughn really was.

"I'll explain it to you someday." I whispered back.

A few agents from the Covenant were there too and I hadn't been able to stop Cole from coming, but even their presence didn't bother me. And as I accepted their hugs and their congratulations I got a glimpse of two people standing at the farthest corner of the temple's patio: Kendall and my mother. He gave me a nod; she smiled broadly with tears in her eyes. I couldn't go near them, but knowing they were there meant a lot already. I wished my dad could have been there too, but then there probably would have been no wedding at all, so…

A big square table was set under a large tree. We set around it and enjoyed a great lunch with our guests. Vaughn had one arm around my shoulders the whole time and he would take every opportunity to touch me, smile to me, kiss me gently. We seemed the perfect couple and I was having serious trouble not to believe that illusion entirely myself. Weiss declared that that was the best food he had ever tasted and he couldn't decide if the best was the salmon carpaccio, the risotto with white truffles or the wild boar with fresh asparagus. The wine was great too and I remember wondering how many glasses Weiss must have taken as he stood up announcing his best-man speech. It was late afternoon and a cold breeze was beginning to blow. I had a shawl over my shoulders (I had it made in the same satin of the dress) and Vaughn held me tightly. He and I exchanged a glance preparing ourselves to what was to come, but soon I would find out that I had no reason to be worried – Weiss was the best best-man ever.

"Ok, folks, it's time for my speech" he started, calling everyone's attention. "So, Chris and I have been best friends for a long time. We've been through a lot together and we got to know each other pretty well. That's why I can tell you that meeting Julia changed his life and his world and himself. From the first time they met I could tell he was different: like he felt a responsibility to be the best person he could be, the best version of himself – for her. And day after day, month after month, I watched him become this person. He is stronger now, and braver and wiser and better; most of all, though, he is happier. He is a happy man because he has you in his life, Julia. And you should know: the man he is today, the person he has become - this is all your doing."

My eyes were full of tears. I nuzzled my face against Vaughn's and he kissed me at the temple. People began to clap, but Weiss wasn't done yet.

"I look at the two of you, I see the way you act when you are together and the way you look at each other, and it gives me hope, it makes me believe that the world can be a happy place, that dreams may come true, that love can beat anything. So thank you, my friends, for making me hope and believe; and congratulations: you've made it. To Julia and Christopher!" he said raising his glass. As everyone toasted all I could think was that Weiss had made it; he had turned that façade of a wedding into Vaughn's and my real wedding, and for that I was truly grateful to him.

We did the cake after Weiss's speech and I threw my bouquet; Hannah caught it and looked horrified. It was getting dark and most of the guests said their goodbyes. Leonid, Weiss and the priest, though, remained at the table having second pieces of the cake.

Vaughn took me to the edge of the patio and we stared at the beautiful countryside lying below us as the sun came down.

"Happy?" he asked softly.

"Very" I answered turning to face him and hugging him tightly, setting my arms around his lower back and letting my head rest on the crook of his neck. "You?"

"Very." He kissed my forehead. I turned my head to look back at the patio and he whispered "More than I ever thought possible" into my ear. I sighed in contentment and cradled my head on his shoulder. We simply stayed there together for a moment with our arms around each other, the rosy sunset sky behind us, and I felt safe and completely happy.

"Now this is a beautiful picture!" Weiss said looking at the image he had just registered with his digital camera, sounding very pleased with himself and his talent as a photographer. You should choose a good spot for it at that fancy house of yours.

He was right. That is my favorite picture of the wedding. That is my favorite picture ever. It sits on the piano and every day I'll take some time just to stare at it. It will always make me smile, it will always reassure me of the choices I made. In our close embrace, Vaughn and I are not looking at each other, but I don't think we have ever looked so close or so truthful to one another. We are clearly not worried about withholding anything; you can see the peace, the happiness and the love in our glance, so intense and undeniable. It is there; it is true. Reality meets dreams in that image and in the life it portrays. I only wish it could last forever.


	23. Chapter 22

**A/N:**Thank God you liked the wedding, guys! Not the easiest piece to write when many people have created wonderful wedding scenes for Sydney and Vaughn over the years.

milady89: thank you so much! You wanting that to be your wedding is such a great compliment!

RocknVaughn: about Kendall and Irina being there… well, let's pretend they were hiding really well, you know? I just wanted them to be there so badly… ; )

Brucasforever09: don't worry about not reviewing every chapter. I'm really happy that you're following the story and I look forward to your reviews whenever they come. : )

mari: you ask me how many chapters until Vaughn finds out… I'm sorry, but I don't have an answer to this question just yet. I have that scene partly written, but there are parts of the story between this point and that one that I'm still working on, so… What I can tell you, though, is that I'm calculating a maximum of forty chapters to the whole story.

**Chapter twenty two**

We spent our first night as a married couple in Florence, where we would catch our flight to Paris early the next morning. It was a one hour drive from Siena and we stayed in a beautiful hotel suite with a gorgeous view to river Arno and the city. I almost wished we didn't have to leave so soon, but Vaughn promised me we could go back there sometime soon, and Paris waited for us, after all. Still, that renaissance style decorated suite holds some of my most cherished memories: laughs as Vaughn carried me inside the door like a perfect groom would; champagne and strawberries; a dance on the balcony that turned into hugging and kissing; he taking my hand and guiding me inside; I letting him help me out of my dress; our long passionate kisses; a deep sense of belonging; our bodies tangled on soft green linen; the green of his eyes embracing me; the feeling of loosing myself in him; his smile; a last fight to keep my eyes open as he caressed my skin softly, telling me I was his wife.

I woke up the next morning feeling right where I belonged. My head rested on Vaughn's chest and I could feel his steady heartbeat. When I looked up at his face, he was looking at me, the sun highlighting his sandy hair. I knew I would love to wake up like that every morning. But then it happened.

"Good morning." I greeted him.

"Good morning" he said and I knew there was something off.

I smiled at him with a questioning glance. He smiled back and that was the first time I saw it: the morning smile, the well calculated morning smile that a husband should give his wife. I wondered what might have been going through his mind that night. He seemed tired; I could tell he hadn't had much sleep. Maybe he was rethinking his decision to marry me; maybe only then he was beginning to fully understand the implications of that decision; maybe he was afraid of his feelings towards me – I knew they were there and I doubted he could deny them to himself. Perhaps he was trying to cover them as his alias' duty.

But if the smiles were fake, the kisses weren't; and knowing that, feeling that gave me all the strength I needed.

"We should start getting ready, we have a plane to catch" I said, trying to regain control over the situation.

"Yeah, we should. I'll order some breakfast while you get ready." he planned.

"Okay." I said walking to the bathroom. Who cared that we were making the first morning of our marriage seem like a mission? We were great partners; we loved going on missions together. We loved doing anything together.

We got ready, had breakfast and soon we were at the airport. The flight to Paris took less than two hours and once there we headed to our hotel on Rive Gauche. It was a nice hotel, but our room was positively dreadful. Vaughn tried to get us another one, but there wasn't any available and when he decided that we would look for another hotel the clerk (who wasn't a very kind man) wished us good luck with a sarcastic grin. Apparently the city was crowded that week, due to some fashion event. I told Vaughn we would be fine in our room and convinced him to give it one more chance.

"All we have to do is look at the situation from the bright side." I told him before opening the door to our room once more.

"Fine." He said begrudgingly.

I had to admit it was hard to keep a positive attitude, though. The room was really small and furnished with heavy large pieces that left no place for one to walk around them. Seriously: the door couldn't be completely opened because of a wardrobe set behind it, so one had to sneak through the small passage it left – enough to say that a suitcase would be stuck in there; to go from the bed to the bathroom one had to literally jump over a bedside table and carefully avoid bumping their head on a coat rack; in the bathroom there was enough place only for one person, who wouldn't actually have to _walk_ inside the room – just standing in the center of the crowded place and spinning around would give access to the sink, the toilet and the bathtub (of course there was no shower).

Vaughn looked at me with a "no way" glare without even going inside the room. I had to try, tough, or that honeymoon would be completely ruined, which would do no good to my plans of making that marriage actually work.

"Come on, Chris, we can make this work, it will just take us some creativity." I coached him.

"Really?" he asked, clearly in a bad mood.

"Yes." I said grinning. "Look: as we have virtually no room here, we won't have to unpack just to pack again in a few days, which I know you hate; plus, this place is so claustrophobic that you can be sure that I won't be long getting ready in the mornings; and last but not least, imagine how happy we'll be to go back home; we'll love our house even more after _this_." I tried my best to sound convincingly. He glared at me. "Oh, come on… just try." I begged him.

"Are you really doing this?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion and a hint of smile beginning to show on his face.

"Am I really doing what?" I asked him.

"Trying to cheer me up, making jokes about the room, laughing at this mess." he cleared.

"Yes. Why not? So we got a bad room…" he glared at me once more "okay, so we got a tiny hole on the wall..." we both laughed "so what? We just got married; it's our honeymoon. There's nothing that could possibly upset me right now." I told him and it was absolutely true.

"You're amazing." he said giving me a true smile, sparkle in the eyes and all.

('Hum… maybe Miss Reed is picky…' I mused to myself watching his reaction.)

"I am not amazing." I argued.

"Yes you are. And you know what? I just noticed the greatest thing about this room – aka hole on the wall." He was completely relaxed already.

"Really? What is it?" I asked laughing, glad that he was playing along.

"All the time we spend here, we'll have to be in bed." he actually winked at me.

"Oh really, Mister?" I gapped at him faking offense.

"Hey, what's with the tone? All I'm saying is that there is nowhere else to be. It's not like we have an armchair or–" I cut him with a kiss and we fell back together on the bed laughing out loud.

"You know" I said between kisses "this is a great room. I don't think I'll be leaving it at all."

"You're right." he pinned me down on the mattress lying over me and kissing me endlessly. "This is the best room ever." he whispered kissing my neck.

I couldn't agree more.

…………………………………………………….

We did leave the room. There was no way we could order room service in there and we actually wanted to wander around Paris, maybe go to a museum, eat somewhere nice or simply walk along the Seine together. We ended up doing it all. Vaughn took me to the Musée d'Orsay, where I could delight myself with the Impressionist paintings that I loved. We also saw one or two galleries at the Louvre – it would take months to see the entire museum. But the Musée Rodin was my favorite. The bronze sculptures were everywhere inside the house that used to be Rodin's home and at the gardens around it. I would spend several minutes just staring at those sculptures and Vaughn and I would talk about them sharing our impressions. I had never felt closer to him – since having become Julia, it is – and it was a great feeling.

We walked hand-in-hand down the Champs Elysées and along the Seine, and he told me the story of every single bridge crossing the river. We also visited Notre Dame and finally surrendered to the Eiffel Tower. The day was clear and we could see the whole town from the top of it. Life seemed so much easier over there, as if everything made sense seen from those heights.

We would have light lunches at a café or a bistro and then go to dinner at fancy restaurants where I would be treated as a royalty member or a movie star. And when I told Vaughn he was spoiling me way too much he bought me a Chanel dress as a gift. I was completely speechless – and so was the hotel clerk when he saw me wearing it to a soirée at the Opera. When we got back he even offered us a new room, but it was our last night in Paris and we really wanted to spend it in our little hole on the wall. It was only fair and truth is we had grown quite fondly of that room. It holds great memories… but then, many spots in Paris hold great memories for me after that trip: kisses, talks, glances shared became part of the city scenery for me.

Paris had never been my favorite place in the world. I found it pretty, for sure, but New York, London, Prague, Vienna were closer to my heart – and that was only thinking about big cities, because I specially loved small European towns. Seeing Paris with Vaughn, though, was a fantastic experience. He truly loved it there and he would make it feel like a magic place. Being there with him, I finally understood the spell that city could cast on so many people and I soon became one of them. But then, my husband cast a spell on me years ago and I truly believe that anywhere in the world will seem the most wonderful place to me if only he is there.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter twenty three**

I don't know if many women wonder what they will be like as a wife. I know that many of them rehearse their wedding since they're little girls: a blanket for a veil, the favorite doll as the flower girl, a teddy bear or maybe next door's little boy for the groom. Soon they'll be picturing their wedding dress, their bouquet, the bridesmaid's dresses, the smiles that will greet them as they walk down the aisle, the look of pure love on the groom's eyes, the happiness surrounding them.

I would probably have become one of those girls, but I lost my mother before I could ask her about the most appropriate material for a wedding dress and the best flowers for a bouquet. My father was the one who told me that she was dead. I asked to see her one last time. There was no body; no one to say goodbye to.

That night my cream-colored childhood blanket stopped being my bridal veil and became a shroud. For days after that I would lie down very still on my bed and cover my whole body with it, head to toe, like I had seen people do to bodies inside coffins on the movies. I would open my eyes to the half-light filtering through the woolen blanket woof and chant a requiem softly. This was the funeral I could give my mother; I didn't want her to go without one.

With Danny I didn't have enough time to plan a wedding; with Vaughn I was afraid to. It was supposed to be a façade, it wasn't supposed to be my wedding for real, so I did the minimum and it ended up being absolutely perfect. My mother was there and she had helped picking my dress. I didn't have a veil but my bouquet was beautiful. And I had seen love on my groom's eyes. Simply put, that ceremony made true a dream I never got to have.

I had, though, dreamed of and planned my role as a wife. I would be like my mom (minus the Russian spy part, of course, but I didn't know about it as a child): the perfect housewife who made her home a nice and warm place; who was a shelter for her husband and her child; who always knew what to say and what to do – and still made her husband believe that she needed him to take care of her. I wanted to be that person to whom my husband would turn whenever something happened; I wanted him to look at me as if I could make everything okay – and to know that I could only be that person because I had him by my side.

As Vaughn and I crossed the gate to our villa as husband and wife for the first time I prayed that I would be able to become that perfect wife for him, and from that moment on I've done everything in my power to make our marriage a happy one. I know I can't rely on love. It might be there, sometimes I am sure it is there, but it won't be expressed in clear words or open actions. If we fight, if we have problems, we won't have that 'it's okay, we love each other; everything will be fine' reassuring feeling to get us through the tough times; on the other hand, it's likely that we will sabotage our happiest moments, because enjoying them, really enjoying them, would mean admitting that we care about each other way too much for our own sake. So I rely on the little things: fixing him breakfast, picking his tie in the mornings, having dinner with him every evening, making sure that his suits and his shirts are perfectly ironed the way he likes them, being always there for him whenever he needs me for whatever it is. I try to make his life easy and comfortable; I try to make my company bearable, even enjoyable – sometimes I dream it could be wanted.

……………………………………………

We took our time decorating our home. Nothing was rushed; from the furniture to the paintings on the walls and the flower vases, picture frames and small objects adorning these rooms everything was carefully hand picked. We did our bedroom first, out of necessity, because we didn't even have a bed when we moved in – we chose one with columns that I love. We didn't want the room to be crowded (the memory of our honeymoon "suite" was still fresh in our minds), and didn't need wardrobes as we have a great closet with plenty of room, so apart from the bed and the nightstands all we chose for the bedroom was a big soft armchair.

"I'm so glad that we'll have a comfortable seat in our bedroom…" he told me when we were paying for the armchair.

"Why?" I asked him laughing slightly.

"Because I know I'll spend hours in there waiting for you to get ready."

"Oh you… I never take long getting ready. I –" he was laughing at me. I slapped his arm. "Hey! That hurt." he was still laughing.

I tried to glare but failed miserably and we ended up kissing in the middle of the store, like typical newly-weds.

A month after our wedding the old piano we had sent to restoration came back in perfect shape. We put it in our beautiful room overlooking the rose garden and it looked wonderful. That night Vaughn and I played a Chopin's prelude together and as our hands touched in their dance over the keyboard we started a kiss which led to a very romantic entr'acte. The memories of his hands running on my body, touching me softly but determinedly as if he was still playing music, sitting me up on our newly-restored piano and dipping his head into my neck and down my chest still make me blush and smile dreamily whenever I sit there to play something. Most of the times, I will soon feel the intensity of his stare heating up the back of my neck and his arms will be encircling me as I finish the piece.

We got our antique wooden dinning table and its twelve chairs in an auction. It was quite a fight we had to put up to get it. There was another couple interested on the item but we were convinced that that table was the perfect one for the villa, so we insisted and ended up paying a little too much for it. Still, the victory was worth it and so were the table and chairs, although I'm pretty sure we'll never have that many guests for dinner. Anyway, the table looks really good in our dinning room and I like the picture of a big family reunion it brings to my mind.

The furniture for the large living room we got from a great carpenter who makes craft items. Giorgio came to the villa to know the place and we actually had a great time listening to the stories he loves to tell. He was absolutely smitten with us and our house, and ended up staying for the whole afternoon. Two months later Vaughn and I went to his workshop to see what he had made. We found a set of two sofas and two armchairs made in a beautiful caramel-colored wood with inlaid cushions in a silky ivory-colored material. Little golden tacks fixed the fabric covering the cushions to their wooden frame, which had arabesques carved on it. We looked at each other smiling. We loved the pieces.

"I also have a gift for you." Giorgio announced excitedly. "It's something I made a long time ago but I never found a place or people that deserved it – until now." He uncovered a display case made of the same wood of our couches and armchairs, and the finest crystal I had ever seen. It was a work of art and I fell in love with it right away. "I'm sure it'll be perfect in your villa and I know you'll appreciate it."

"Giorgio, we can't accept it." I said softly.

"You don't like it?" he was clearly disappointed.

"No, we love it." I said quickly "But we can't accept such a gift. This piece must be worth a fortune."

Relief spread over his face and he smiled.

"I know you'll take good care of it and it deserves to have a home like your villa." He talked about that piece of furniture as if it was his child.

"We'll take it, Giorgio, but only if you promise to come visit us sometime." Vaughn told him and I looked at my husband in adoration. I love to know that he is so sensitive, so thoughtful and so kind.

Giorgio comes to see us quite often and we have tea in the living room, where he can see his display case. I put my collection of Italian ceramics inside it, which he fully approved. Like many items in the villa that one has a history and a special meaning. I like to know this. I like to think that this house is another character in my love story with Vaughn; that it adds to it and that it will keep its memory safe for as long as it stands on the center of a lush green lawn.

…………………………………………

I love everything about this place and Vaughn does, too. I know we'll miss it a lot when we have to go away, but that's a time I carefully avoid thinking about. For now all I want is to make our life here as pleasant as it can be; for Vaughn, for me and for everyone around us.

Hannah came to stay with us as soon as we were back from our honeymoon. She cooks, helps me taking care of the house and deals with the gardener who comes in every Monday and the cleaning lady who is here three times a week – it's a big house. She is also responsible for our security, which is her real job. Every two days she'll swap the place for bugs and verify the bug-killers she has installed on every lamp and every phone in the house. She also makes sure that the alarms are always set inside the house and outside at the yard, and she is the only person who actually knows how many guns are hidden in here and where exactly they are. Plus, she is a real friend that I like having close by. She has grown much attached to me and to Vaughn and I know she considers us her family.

Leonid comes to dinner with us sometimes and although I haven't told him the truth about Vaughn and Weiss yet – not that I don't trust him, I do now; it's just that telling the whole story is hard – I think he is beginning to understand what is really going on here. Leonid was one of the agents that the Covenant sent to abduct me from my apartment in LA and he had been provided with some background information on me. Among other things, he knew about my time with SD-6 and that I was romantically involved with another CIA agent who had been my handler back then. He told me this one night when I was still being held captive and brainwashed. He was the only one who realized that I was only pretending that the procedure was working, and I guess my resistance inspired him somehow, or so he said. He came to me, apologized for what he had done and told me he wanted to defect and help me. After they let me go I took him to Kendall and that's how we started working together. Leonid may not be the bravest man on earth, but he is smart and I think he is starting to figure out who Vaughn is. He's progressively becoming nicer towards him, probably out of guilty. I have forgiven him long ago and I actually like having him as a friend.

As for Weiss, from the very beginning I made sure to let him know that I didn't mind having him over for breakfast or dinner or whatever he and Vaughn wanted to do together – talk in library, watch TV or play pool in the attic. I like that he is here a lot, for Vaughn and for myself, and although I don't say it in that many words I make it clear to him that he is always welcome to our house. I know he appreciates it and more then once I've wondered if maybe Lauren is not that fond of him, because he seems to really value my kindness, my friendship, my disposition to be the cool wife who doesn't try to keep her husband from his friends. Truth is he is one of my best friends and I love having him around.

I'm happy with my home and the little dysfunctional "family" around me. Vaughn and I have been married for almost a year now and on many occasions during this time I wished I had really become my alias: Julia lives in a dream-like house, she has friends who like her, a job that doesn't bother her (of course her morals are opposite to mine), a husband who she loves and who loves her back, and she completely ignores that all that is a lie and will end some day soon. I don't want it to end for her – for me (it's quite a schizophrenic exercise thinking about my life these days), but, as in a sick joke, I work every single day to take the Covenant down and bring all this to an end as soon as possible. I have no idea what I'll do when it actually happens: I'll lose Vaughn for good, I'll lose my friends (I know I'll miss even the Covenant ones, it's not like I have other friends at home, with Francie dead and Will in Witness Protection), I'll lose a house I actually worship, I'll lose my roses, I'll lose the little life I only started to build after my own was destroyed.

Sometimes I get so depressed thinking about this that I wish I had really died on that fire. But then Julia rescues me, getting a smile, a kiss or a new shawl from her husband, having a fun chat with her friends or simply lying down on a bench in her garden, surrounded by roses of all possible colors. I envy her and I live through her.


	25. Chapter 24

**A/N: **Hi, everyone!I hope you like this chapter, even though it's not about big revelations. One of the (many, many) things I enjoyed about Alias was the combination of earth-shattering incredible events and the prosaic things of day-to-day routine. I thought it was amazing to see that in the crazy heroic world Sydney and Vaughn lived in what actually saved them (or at least kept them from losing their minds) time after time were the "little" things in life, those we all take for granted. Put in their perspective, these things regained their enormous value.

This part of the story is about that: how even Sydney and Vaughn, living what was supposed to be a "fake" marriage, can have some normalcy in their lives, and how important this normalcy is for them.

Thank you very much for your reviews! I love reading each one of them!

**Chapter twenty four**

Getting home from the office every evening I let my thoughts drift to Vaughn and to our marriage. It's a forty minutes drive and I use the time well.

I remember our first days in our beautiful home. There was some awkwardness then, it was undeniable. He clearly didn't know how to be married to Julia Thorne and his demeanor fluctuated from self-protective distancing to overdone displays of affection that I knew not to be spontaneous. I was confused myself and kept giving him crossed signs, being cold at times and then overly passionate just to be cold again, trying to remedy any out-of-character behavior. The beginning of a marriage is a delicate time for any couple – it's a period of transition and adjustment – but it was certainly more complicate to us. We had to adjust to each other and to the characters we were playing, and then we had to make them adjust to each other. We were finding out how it was to be married as Sydney and Vaughn and as Julia and Christopher at the same time. Still, the memory of those days brings a smile to my face, because from the comfortable spot where we are now it's fun to look back and remember our embarrassment from those days. I would pray for Weiss to be the most inappropriate best friend ever and visit Vaughn and me in our first week as husband and wife (Vaughn actually sighed in relief when he actually showed up for dinner one evening) and would spend hours in the kitchen with Hannah with the excuse of preparing something special for my husband.

We wore down each other defenses little by little, though, and soon we were settled into our life together. I remember one morning we were having breakfast in the rose garden in utter silence and avoiding each other's gaze at all costs. We had had a very passionate night but when morning came it was as if we were two strangers not knowing what to do around each other. But then, as I took a sip of my orange juice, I heard Vaughn laughing softly and looked up at him.

"This is ridiculous." He said.

"I know." I was laughing too.

"We can have a whole night of amazing sex together but can't talk over breakfast?"

He made it sound preposterous, though I knew he understood perfectly well what was going on – with him, at least: in the bedroom, we were too entangled in the moment and with each other to worry about playing our characters well – our characters of husband and wife as well as of Christopher and Julia.

"Oh, I'm glad you found last night to be amazing…" I said teasing him with a hint of seduction in my voice.

"Didn't you?" he asked, though there was no doubt in his tone.

"You know I did." I answered. We smiled and were silent again while I poured him some coffee.

"It works, Julia. We work." He said softly, in a very reassuring way. "We are not _trying_ something here. We've already succeeded." He took my hand and draw small circles on its back with his thumb. I gave him a dimpled smile.

Even in the situation we were trapped him, I trusted him; I believed what he said. So we both stopped trying so hard and just started living. In the end, it turned out that he was right. We were good together; it was easy being around each other. He made me feel at home and I guess to some level I made him feel the same way. So we started settling down. We would work well together as always and have great talks over meals. He would read to me in the library late nights and after the first time he asked me to help him pick a tie one morning we made a ritual out of it.

But the fact that we were comfortable around each other didn't mean that our feelings were less intense. One light touch from Vaughn still makes my skin burn and his kisses shake me out of my own private and lonely world. And about this I have no doubt: I know that I affect him the same way. Our conscious selves might have to lie and pretend; our bodies don't. On this I can rely.

…………………………………………….

I remember our first fight – over curtains, of all things.

I picked the curtains for the window panes in the piano room when Vaughn went to LA for a weekend. I felt frustrated and lonely and I didn't want to think about him and Lauren, so I got Hannah and we went to this amazing store in Trastevere that sells the most beautiful fabrics I've ever seen. After a long debate I chose a sandy-colored fabric with a special texture imitating autumn leaves. I was sure Vaughn would approve it.

When the curtains were delivered ten days later, though, he seemed really upset. He had been working in the study and I called him to see them when they were already hanging beautifully. He didn't say a word.

"Don't you like them?" I asked concerned.

"They're hideous." He said boldly.

I was taken aback with that reaction. It was nothing like Vaughn to be so short and unkind.

"What?" I asked in a small voice.

"They are the most hideous things I've ever seen."

Hannah, who had been admiring the curtains from the corner of the room headed quietly back to the kitchen.

"I can't believe you think this way. I was so sure that you would like them…" I tried.

"Oh, you know what the problem is? The problem is that you think you know me very well. Let me tell you: you don't! You don't know me at all!" he snapped and right then I knew that that argument wasn't about the curtains.

It had hit me a couple weeks before: we had been married for almost six months and had not once had a serious argument, not a single fight. To me, realizing that was a joy; to him, though, it must have been terrifying to know that we got along so well; that we could be so happy together. He must have been freaking out and the new curtains became victims to his plan of proving to himself and to me that we weren't a "perfect couple". (As if even the most perfect couples didn't fight, but anyway.) I understood what was going on with him, but still I couldn't avoid the huge fight we had, probably because I was angry that he felt the need to fight with me for nothing; that he couldn't accept that – yes, we were great together.

"You know, Christopher, maybe I don't want to know you." I told him sharply.

"Good, because you never will." he retorted. I could feel a tear trying to escape my eye, but I fought it back.

"It's fine with me. What I won't have is you acting like a jerk around me because of such a thing as curtains." I had regained some control and my voice was steady.

"I hate it when you act like the queen of good manners." his jaw was clenched and I knew he was really furious. It only added to my anger.

"Don't use sarcasm against me. You know better than that." I said looking him in the eye.

"Don't threaten me, Julia. You know better than that."

He turned his back on me and left. I heard the door to the study slam violently and flinched slightly on my spot. Hannah found me completely still with my arms around my body. She enveloped me in a motherly hug, telling me that everything would be all right.

Vaughn didn't come out of the study for hours. Hannah called him to dinner but it was no use. I was sitting at the dinning table all by myself when the doorbell rang. It was Weiss. I heard Hannah telling him that Vaughn and I had had an argument and that it wasn't a good time. He was about to leave when I came to the foyer and asked him to stay and keep me company over dinner. I tried to do some small talk but it was too hard. Finally Weiss couldn't help it anymore.

"Julia, I'm sorry to pry, but what happened?" he asked carefully.

"He didn't like the new curtains." I said.

"You fought over curtains?!" he gapped at me.

"Ridiculous, huh?" I was staring at my plate.

"I'll talk to him." He said rising from his seat.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Fred." I sounded helpless.

"Julia, he's being a jerk. I'll straighten him up." That was… unexpected. Was Weiss on my side? But before he could do or say anything else Vaughn entered the dinning room. He walked past Weiss as if he wasn't there and knelt down beside my chair taking my hands in his.

"I'm sorry." he said "Fred is right. I'm acting like a jerk."

"Not now, you aren't… I'm sorry too." We both stood up and hugged each other. "We can get rid of those curtains and get other ones." I suggested.

"Nah, I'll get used to them." he smiled playing with a strand of my hair.

"Okay then."

"Ah… well done, kids! I'm proud of you! Now we can have some dessert." Weiss said happily.

Vaughn and I exchanged an amused glance. Soon things went back to normal. Sometimes he will make a comment about the infamous curtains; by now I'm convinced that it is all a pretense. And I actually came to enjoy our fake little arguments. They add to the "normalcy" of our life as a couple.

…………………………………………………

I remember the time he showed me how to take care of the roses. It was a sunny spring day and we were having breakfast in the garden as we usually do. He caught me staring at the roses.

"You truly like them, don't you?" he asked softly.

"Yeah. I do. I love this place." I turned my attention from the flowers and focused on him. He was smiling.

"My parents loved roses. We had a rose garden in Fleury. My father took care of it and he taught me all about roses." He was lost in his memories for a moment.

"Will you teach me? I'd like to help you taking care of them." He was out of his reverie and staring at me with a questioning expression.

"Really? Why?"

"Because I like them." But I knew it was more than that. "Because they bring me joy. Because they keep me company." I was not sure of what I was saying, just thinking out loud; trying to figure out a felling I didn't understand myself.

"Are you lonely?" he asked.

"What?"

"You said the roses keep you company. Are you lonely?"

"No." It was a lie. "Sometimes… in some ways." I was desperately trying not to hurt him, although I didn't know why I felt that my admitting that I was lonely would hurt him.

"I'll show you how to take care of them." he decided and I wondered whether he understood me more than I thought he could.

We spent hours in the garden that day. We were transferring some seedlings to a new flower bed; I handled them carefully as if holding life itself on my hands; I enjoyed having dirt on them – dealing with it was healthy and restoring. I was used to have blood on my hands; they finally seemed clean after a long time. Vaughn said I had my way with the roses; I felt proud. Since then I've helped him in the garden and it truly became _our_ garden. We carefully watch every rosebush that grows in there; we make bets about the color of the flowers about to bloom from the new buds; we pick the roses that fall to the ground after their short life. I let their petals dry, make potpourris with them and put those everywhere so the entire house smells of roses.

I know that one day, when I don't have any of this anymore – not Vaughn, not our garden, not our villa, not our life together – I'll still fell the scent of the roses and it will bring me some solace. It will keep me some company.


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter twenty five**

I'm really, really angry right now. Vaughn and Weiss are at home waiting me for dinner but I'll be late because as I left work and made my way to the parking garage Kendall called my cell and practically forced me to go meet with him.

"This better be important." I say in a bad mood and not trying to hide it at all.

"The CIA is sending Marshall here." He says boldly.

"What?" I'm gapping at him.

"You reported last month that Cole was looking for an expert in technology and linguistics. So did Vaughn and Weiss. The CIA saw an opportunity in it as you all expected them to. They're sending Marshall." He explains, not to my satisfaction.

"But he has a wife and a baby…Mitchell is what – fifteen months-old?"

"Marshall will be bringing his wife and son." Kendall says.

I'm speechless.

"Apparently he is quite happy he'll get to work with you again, Sydney." Kendall adds.

"But this is too dangerous. For him, for his family…" I argue. "Wait. Since when does Marshall know that I'm alive?" I ask realizing what Kendall said.

"Since two weeks ago. It was Vaughn who told him when he was in LA."

"Were you there?" I ask slowly.

"Yes."

"And why didn't you tell me about this before?" I hiss.

"I wasn't sure that Marshall would be coming until yesterday and I wanted to spare you." He defends.

"You know I hate it when people patronize me!" I'm almost yelling now.

"Sydney, calm down." I glare at him. "Please." He adds.

"What did Vaughn say?" I ask pacing the room.

"That you had been brainwashed into becoming Julia Thorne – former contract killer and Rambaldi expert presently running a research division for the Covenant."

"Didn't he mention that we are married?" I ask, trying to make the question sound work related but not quite succeeding.

"Of course he did. And Marshall was so happy hearing this news that he rushed to Vaughn and almost took him down with a hug to express his congratulations. Weiss laughed. Lauren fumed." Kendall rolls his eyes at this last bit of information.

"Lauren was there?" I try to stifle a laugh and fake a concerned expression.

Kendall pauses for a minute, takes a few steps and turns to me again.

"You know, Sydney, hearing Vaughn talk about you…" he stops again.

"What?" I hold my breath.

"He… he sounds happy. I mean he sounds truly happy. He sounds like a happy husband talking about his wife." he blurts out.

"He does?" I sigh.

"Yes. I don't know how Lauren copes with that."

"He is still with her; they are still engaged. She is the one he is truly committed to." I reason.

"Oh, come on. He is conning her." he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"I don't think he is." I say hoping he'll fight me on that.

"Okay, even if he isn't; even if someday he does leave you and actually marries her…"

"Kendall" – I cut him short – "It's not like that. He wouldn't be _leaving me_. He doesn't see me as his wife." Truth is I can't stand the thought of Vaughn leaving me – to be with someone else.

"The hell he doesn't!" Kendall chuckles and I am stunned. "He might try to convince everyone otherwise, even himself; but Sydney, you are his wife. Marshall didn't have the reaction he had out of the blue. Okay, he's Marshall and he is… well, one of a kind; but Vaughn did have quite an obvious glint of pride in his eyes when he told him you were his wife."

"He did?" I can't believe it; I'm too afraid to believe it.

"Go meet your husband for dinner. You're late." Kendall actually smiles at me. "Oh, and Marshall should be here soon." He reminds me.

"Thank you." I say with a smile of my own waving him goodbye.

………………………………………………

"Hey guys! I'm finally home and dinner is ready!" I call out for Vaughn and Weiss from the bottom of the stairs leading to the attic. They've been there playing pool for a couple of hours already according to Hannah.

"Julia, could you come up here for a second? I need your help." that's Weiss and I'm curious.

"Is something wrong?" I ask climbing up the stairs.

"Yes. Your husband is cheating." He tells me boldly. Vaughn glares at him.

"What?" I ask nervously.

"He beat me three times in a row." he says pointing to the pool table "It's just not possible." He sounds truly indignant. I let out a breath of relief.

"Oh, honey, you should let Fred win sometimes." I say teasingly to Vaughn.

"I hate you both you know?" Weiss snaps "You're always together against the world. I truly hate you."

"No you don't." Vaughn tells him putting an arm around my shoulders and squeezing me lightly.

"Come on, Fred; Hannah made lasagna." I try to soothe him.

"Okay. Bribe me with food. Let's eat. I have no friends, but I still have food left."

Vaughn and I laugh. I love these little moments we share. I look around and can't help thinking that my life is as perfect as it gets.

……………………………………………..

"So, it's our anniversary next Saturday. How are we going to celebrate?" Vaughn asks me after Weiss leaves. We are reading in the library.

"Oh, I don't know." I close my book and look at him smiling. "We could go out to dinner, maybe. Did you have any ideas?"

"Actually I think we could give Hannah a day off and cook ourselves lunch and just hang out here. You know, have some domestic time." he suggests

"It sounds great." I tell him and I really mean it.

On Saturday morning we go together to the central market to get everything we'll need and come back home full of groceries. We pick artichokes for our entrée, flour, eggs, pecorino cheese and fresh pears – we'll be having homemade ravioli – and some bread. The only thing we are not making ourselves is dessert: I ordered our beloved tiramisu from Trattoria di Nardi and it's already sitting in the fridge. We both look like pros wearing aprons in our huge kitchen, surrounded by pans, skummers and dishes. I boil some water to cook the artichokes while Vaughn starts the dough. He looks very sexy mixing flour and eggs with his bare hands. I stand behind him and kiss his neck softly.

"Hey!" he scolds me "Show the chef some respect!"

"Oh, I thought I was the chef." I whine.

"Nope. You're the sous-chef." he corrects me "What means that you follow my orders." He says with a wink.

"Oh, and what should I do now, Chef?" I ask respectfully.

"Come here."

He embraces me and soon there's flour all over me and on the kitchen floor. We are making a mess and having a blast. He stops, though, and I know he has every intention of actually making us lunch, so I assist him peeling the pears and slicing them. We grate the pecorino and put it in a bowl with the fruit, add some cream cheese to the mix and the ravioli filling is ready. Vaughn rolls out the dough on the worktop and lets me cut it in small square pieces. We put together the ravioli and now all we have to do is cook them and prepare the sauce. Vaughn takes care of it. He is making traditional white sauce with a touch of white wine and nutmeg. It smells great. The artichokes are ready and I set them beautifully on a plate seasoning them with salt, olive oil and vinegar. We'll be having a frugal yet sophisticate meal.

We take quick showers and finish setting the table in the rose garden. It's a nice autumn day and we'll enjoy an outdoor lunch. Vaughn pours us both some wine as I bring the artichokes from the kitchen. I love artichokes; not only how they taste, but the ritual of eating them. The first time I had it I was a child and I remember thinking that it was like playing he-loves-me/he-loves-me-not with food. As Vaughn and I pick one by one the leaves of our artichokes I'm wondering just that: does he love me? When we get to the hearts he cuts them open and we savor their delicate taste. I can't help thinking that this is what he's done to me. Bit by bit he took my defenses away, unveiled my secrets and made his way to my heart. Now he's got it in his hands.

I laugh softly at my own analogy; now I'm comparing myself to artichokes… great!

"Why are you laughing?" he asks with a smile.

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just happy." I say shaking my head slightly.

"Good. So am I." he says and my heart flutters "Are we ready for the pasta?"

"Yes." I'm about to stand up but he doesn't let me.

"I got it."

He takes the plates to the kitchen and comes back with the ravioli. I taste them and I actually moan.

"That good, huh?" he has a seductive smile on the lips.

"Mmhmm."

He takes my hand and kisses my palm softly. We finish eating and agree to leave dessert for later.

Hand-in-hand we walk around our garden and sit on our favorite bench. I lie down and rest my head on his lap. He runs one hand through my hair and I close my eyes at the heavenly feeling. When I open them again he is smiling down at me and this is the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen.

We stay like this for a long time and I wish we never had to move. I'm starting to feel cold though, and Vaughn notices that as usual, so we decide to have dessert inside. Sitting on the kitchen's counter we feed each other spoonfuls of tiramisu agreeing that it's the best sweet in the world.

I go for the dishes but Vaughn stops me.

"Hannah can do it tomorrow. Come with me." he says softly.

I follow him without uttering a word. He turns on the stereo sitting at a corner in the living room and guides me to the foyer, from where we can see the rose garden under the twilight. It's an Ella Fitzgerald CD playing and we dance to "Someone to watch over me". We smile at each other and I lean closer to him, resting my face against his. He hums the melody into my ear and I melt in his arms. He swirls me around and I laugh softly as I come back to find my shelter in his embrace. Before the song ends he is carrying me upstairs to our bedroom. We spent the night in each other's arms and I know that's the only place I ever want to be.


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter twenty six**

Vaughn and I drive to work together this morning because my car is in repair. When he pulls in at the parking garage we notice a car there we are not familiar with, and as we make our way to our office I hear his voice: it's Marshall.

He is talking – or rambling, actually – to Leonid. Weiss is leaning on his desk apparently having fun with the scene. When Vaughn and I come inside the room Marshall stops talking and simply stares at me. I can see his eyes welling up with tears and I have a lump in my throat.

"Can I – May I give you a hug?" is the first thing he says.

I'm completely befuddled and without thinking I nod my head slightly.

He launches himself onto me and hugs me tightly. I get lucky because I'm so astonished that I stand perfectly still and don't hug him back, which is exactly what Julia would do in such a situation. Weiss clears his throat nervously.

"Uh, Julia, this is our new tech guy." He tells me.

"Oh I see." I say sounding as short as I can. I'm actually working hard on not to break into tears or into laughter and tell Marshall that I missed him too, so much.

He finally releases me, cringing like a child who broke something.

"Well, nice to meet you…" I extend my hand trying to dissipate the awkwardness.

"Frank. Frank Hudson. At your service, Madam." He actually bows and Weiss drops his head and covers his eyes with one hand helplessly. Leonid, by now, has no doubt that Marshall knew me from before, and smiles at both of us. Vaughn is standing behind me and out of my sight, but I could bet he has his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes tightly shut and a million wrinkles on his forehead. I'm having fun.

"You may just call me Julia, Frank." I say with a smile. "So, are you a genius?"

"I am… I mean… I'm smart. I don't want to be arrogant or anything. You know, arrogance – not nice. But yeah, I'm smart." And there he is: my old friend.

"I'm very glad to have you here." My smile grows and Weiss looks relieved. He probably feared that Julia would kill Marshall in like five minutes. "I see you've met Leonid and Fred… This is my husband Christopher. He is also an agent here." I reach for Vaughn.

"Oh, swell. Nice to meet you." They shake hands. "Mr. Cole told me everything about you and the department. I like that guy. I mean he is little weird, but in a cool way…"

"Julia, maybe I could show Frank how things work here." Weiss cuts in.

"Sure, Fred. Bring him up to speed. We'll have a briefing later this afternoon." I like having Marshall around. It lightens up the mood.

…………………………………………………

In three days Marshall has access to the Covenant's entire network. I'm impressed. For a while our operation in here has been stuck. We sabotaged missions and stole Rambaldi artifacts but I didn't feel we were getting any closer to take them down. With Marshall here, though, things seem to be moving forward. Another plus of having him here is that he can't help showing his affection towards me, and, although I have to pretend to ignore him most of the time, it makes me feel really good.

"You must behave. You are a big boy now." I hear Marshall's voice and avert my eyes from my laptop, glancing towards the door of the office. It's early in the morning but Weiss, Leonid, Vaughn and I are already here. This seemed to be just another day at work but now I can't believe what I see: Marshall cradling Mitchell and trying to balance a large baby bag while making his way inside the room.

"Frank… What's going on?" Weiss asks slowly, in disbelief.

"My wife is sick. I had to bring him with me." Marshall says hastily. "Oh, Julia, this is Mitchell. He is my guy." He smiles proudly – and he should be proud. The little boy is gorgeous.

"Oh." is all the sound I utter. I'm not sure whether Julia is supposed – or allowed – to like kids.

Leonid looks at the toddler as if he was an explosive device; Weiss clearly thinks that Marshall has lost his mind; Vaughn is looking at the boy with a hint of a smile on the lips.

"He won't be any trouble. He is a good boy." Marshall assures everyone in the room. As in cue, Mitchell – who has been looking at me over his dad's shoulder – makes a naughty face and hides his grin on Marshall's neck.

I can't quite stifle my laughter and now everybody is looking at me. Mitchell chuckles too and holds his chubby arms out to me. The air in the room is thick and I guess everyone is afraid that evil Julia might hurt the cute little boy.

I don't think twice, though, as I rise from my seat, walk towards Marshall and take Mitchell in my arms. I hold him carefully kissing his forehead and nuzzling my face against his light brown hair.

"Hey, Mitchell." I coo, looking into his big blue eyes.

"Hi." he says sweetly glancing up at me. And we are good friends already.

Some movement catches my eye and as I look up over Mitchell's head I see Vaughn standing a few feet away staring at me in complete awe. I grin at him and a broad smile spreads over his face slowly in return. I guess for every man there must be something special in seeing his wife holding a child, even if it's not their child, even if the wife is not exactly real. Vaughn has a look of longing in his eyes and I wonder if he ever thought about having children; if he ever thought about having them with me.

Mitchell draws my attention back running his cute little fingers through a strand of my hair that falls on my shoulder and I press a light kiss on his head.

"You should bring him in everyday, Frank." I say. "Oh, but you said your wife is sick?" I didn't get to know Carrie very well but I liked her.

"Yes. She's got a bad cold. But it's nothing serious. She should be fine in a couple days." he assures me.

"Good. You guys should have dinner with Christopher and me at our house sometime." I suggest. I can tell Vaughn is a little surprised but he smiles.

"That would be awesome!" Marshall sounds excited. "Maybe this weekend? I'm sure Carol – my wife – will be just fine by then."

"Sure. Is Saturday okay?" Vaughn asks.

"It's perfect." Marshall says.

"Hey guys, can we come too?" Weiss asks for himself and Leonid, sounding almost offended.

"Like we'd have to invite you. You're always there anyway, aren't you?" Vaughn snaps playfully.

"Chris…" I scold him. "Everybody is invited. We'll have a great time. Now, though, let's get to work." I say, handing Mitchell back to Marshall.

…………………………………………….

"So how is Marshall?" Kendall asks as soon as I enter the church's attic.

"He's doing well. I think we'll finally make some progress now that he is here." I answer.

"Good. But I actually called you here for something else."

"What is it?"

"We figured what it meant – your DNA sequence being encrypted in the woof produced by the Rambaldi Loom." He says carefully.

"Really? Well, it's about time. It's been over a year." I try to hide my nervous state.

"Sydney…"

('Oh, no. When he starts with Sydney it's never good.' I think, but keep quiet.)

"Your mother came upon a long-lost Rambaldi manuscript last week. It contained instructions for the preparation of an elixir; an elixir for eternal life."

"What?"

"I think that's what Sloane has been looking for all this time. Don't you remember? He told his wife that if he succeeded in his pursuit she would be cancer-free – forever."

I recall Emily telling me that when I met her at the American Embassy in Florence – she was willing to turn Sloane in and she told whatever she knew about his agenda. Now that piece of information makes sense.

"But what does my DNA have to do with it?" I'm confused.

"The elixir is a complex formula of various ingredients combined, and the manuscript we found doesn't disclose which they are; it only points to other manuscripts or artifacts that will reveal them." I roll my eyes. "Yes, Rambaldi sure loves a puzzle." Kendall sympathizes.

"And one of the artifacts mentioned on the manuscript is the cloth… with my DNA sequence." I deduce.

"Yes. According to the manuscript one of the ingredients for the everlasting life elixir is blood from the person with that DNA sequence – your blood." Kendall concludes.

"Great!" I say in defeat.

"I'm sorry. Anyway, your mother and I think this is why the Covenant had you abducted. They know about the elixir and that someway they'll need you to produce it. Luckily we could keep the Loom from them so they hit a dead end."

"Okay." I sigh "What about the other ingredients?"

"One is the solution used to reveal Page 47 and other Rambaldi documents."

"Wow, that's Rambaldi's multiuse solution, isn't it?"

"It would seem so, yes." Kendall chuckles. "Another one is the fluid inside an artifact called the Hourglass, which we already have at Project Black Hole."

"I remember seeing it there." I nod.

"The last one we could identify is the ashes of a man who lived in the times of Rambaldi. They're kept in an urn which accordingly to Irina is in possession of a former contact of hers who is also a Rambaldi dilettante. She'll be stealing it next week so we can keep it safe."

"Okay."

"There are still three unknown ingredients. We know where to look for clues about them but not what they are."

"Sometimes Rambaldi really wears my patience down." I say.

"I know. Go home. Try to relax during the weekend." Kendall suggests.

"Yeah… We're having Weiss, Leonid, Marshall, Carrie and Mitchell over for dinner tomorrow."

"Wow. Everyone will be there, huh? And yet I didn't get invited…"

"Sorry, Kendall." I smile. He is a good handler after all.


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter twenty seven**

I'm excited about the little dinner party tonight. Going over the menu with Hannah, getting the best china from the cupboard in the kitchen and polishing the silverware I feel like a real housewife and I like it – a lot, actually. I catch Vaughn glancing at me from time to time and I guess he finds my excitement kind of cute. It's definitely not something one would expect from Julia, but I made a decision to take a break today and be a little more like myself. Of course I won't be tucking my hair behind my ear every couple of minutes and I certainly don't intend to get too comfortable around my friends, but I'm determined not to force myself to glare at things I actually find amusing or hide my feelings behind a mask of coolness all day long.

It's funny, though, that wondering about this plan I realize how comfortable and natural things have been with Vaughn these last months; I almost don't feel that I'm playing a character around him anymore. Sure I'm still the terrorist/assassin/evil hit woman he works with, but as this professional side of Julia becomes more and more shadowed by her domestic persona – the one he shares his life with – I get to be a different person: not my alias, not my old self either, but Vaughn's wife. And I like being this person. She's a better, fulfilled version of Sydney.

As this realization crosses my mind I feel his arms sneaking around my waist as he presses a sweet kiss on my temple, and I relish in the idea of having him as my husband. I also notice that without realizing it as it happened we've grown closer to each other. I don't remember the last time I felt his smile wasn't real or the last time I second guessed his affection. For months I haven't had bitter thoughts when he kissed me; for months my mind hasn't brought Lauren Reed to stand between us. It has been just us and it has been easy and happy and wonderful. And maybe I should be more afraid now then ever, because the more real the illusion becomes the more painful it will be when it fades away; but I don't care about this right now. I lift my face to Vaughn's and kiss him fully on the lips; and this, just here, is my reality.

……………………………………………..

"Is everything ready?" Vaughn asks stepping out of the bathroom and into our closet where I'm getting dressed.

"Yes. Our guests should be here any minute." I say in a joyful voice.

He helps me with the zipper in the back of my dress and I turn to him with a smile and a kiss.

"Fred and Leonid are here!" Hannah announces from the bedroom's door and we go down to meet them.

It's no more than ten minutes later when Marshall, Carrie and Mitchell – or Frank, Carol and Mitchell, I should say – arrive. They bring us a bottle of wine and a handful of yellow tulips. I give Carrie a tour around the house before we all sit in the living room. Mitchell wears a cute outfit and I play with him on my lap. We talk about the weather and movies and music – Carrie confesses her undying love for Joni Mitchell and Vaughn pops in a CD of hers we just got – and Rome. I ask Marshall if he and Carrie are enjoying their new life here and both of them tell me that they love the city already. They seem to be adapting pretty quickly and pretty well to everything, and Carrie makes sure to let Vaughn and I know how much they appreciate the invitation for them to come to our home. She had been afraid of coming to a new place with a little child and end up completely lonely with her husband's long hours at work and all. I tell her that although work consumes a lot of my time too we could still hang out together sometime, and do some 'girl stuff'. Vaughn cracks a joke about women and shopping and I slap his arm lightly. Hannah invites us to the dinning room and as we make our way there, still chit-chatting about everything and nothing, I try to make the most of this moment of happiness and normalcy. That's what I wish my life was always about.

A couple of hour later, after a great dinner, Vaughn and I walk our guests to their cars parked on our driveway and wish them a goodnight. Marshall has a fast asleep Mitchell in his arms and I help him settle the child in the car. Carrie kisses me goodbye and I have that joyful feeling of making a new friend. Weiss says we should do this again soon and everyone agrees. We wave as they drive away and Vaughn and I walk back inside with our arms around each other.

"I like this." he says with a smile.

"What?" I ask, even though I think I know what he means.

"Our life." He tells me and his answer is best than I expected it to be.

"Me too." I say softly. "Fred is right. We should do this more often."

"Well, Fred is here all the time as it is." he chuckles.

"Yeah, and I like that."

"You really do, don't you?" his expression is questioning and curious, but there is also a hint of appreciation and maybe wonder in his eyes.

"Of course I do." I tell him truthfully. He is staring at me. "I really do." I insist in a more serious tone.

"You're amazing, you know that?" I don't know what to say. He is telling me I am amazing and I know he means it by the look in his eyes. "You're a perfect wife without even trying; you take care of me; you understand me; you make me so happy every day."

Okay, I was not expecting that and suddenly I'm nervous.

"Sweetheart…" I coo, and this is something knew. Vaughn and I were never into pet names, but I just didn't want to call him his alias right now. It would be taunting our little moment and I want it to be true; as true as it can be.

He steps closer and holds me. I lay my head down on his chest and get a glimpse of Hannah smiling at us. I think she likes what she sees; I certainly like what I feel.

………………………………………………

"You and Vaughn seem to be doing pretty well." Hannah says to me a couple of days later. We're in the kitchen, where she is preparing tomato sauce. Vaughn left for work half an hour ago. I have a trip to Milan, so I'm not going to the office today.

"Yes." I say shortly. I don't like her tone.

"Do you think this is wise?" she presses.

"Do I think what is wise, Hannah?"

"Believing the pretense you have created. And worse: believing that it's not a pretense for him." She says pointedly.

"I'm doing what my job requires me to do." It's a lie and she knows.

"No you're not. You're letting your love for him guide you; you're setting yourself for heartbreak."

"My heart will be broken anyway. I might as well be happy for a while before it happens."

"I knew that letting this Julia-Christopher thing happen was a bad idea from the beginning." she sounds mad.

"I'm happy, Hannah." I argue.

"You are deluding yourself, Sydney."

I simply gaze out the window. I've been deluding myself for a while, actually, but I used to be aware of that; now I'm not sure; now I believe my marriage might be more than a façade Vaughn and I put up. Still, Hannah is right. This is dangerous.

"I'm sorry." she says in a softer tone "I like Vaughn; and I think that you two make a great couple. Watching you and him is like watching an old Hollywood musical… But I fear for you. I don't want you to get hurt." she pauses for a moment "He is still engaged to that woman, isn't he?"

"I guess. I try not to think about her; about them. It's just… it's not right. They don't belong together." I blurt out.

"Does he belong with you?" she asks softly.

"He's my soul mate." My voice is steady; this is what I've felt, what I've known for a long time.

Hannah is silent for a handful of minutes. The tomato sauce seems to require her undivided attention. I stare at a grease stain on the countertop.

"Okay" she finally says "here is a thought: tell him the truth."

"What?" I focus my eyes back on her.

"Tell him that they couldn't brainwash you; that you are a double agent; that you know who you really are."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because… because I can't!" It's just preposterous.

"Why?"

"Because it's dangerous." She is out of her mind and she is making me nervous.

"Why?"

"Because the Covenant could find out… and the CIA… Kendall doesn't want anyone to know." I reason with her, but something tells me I'm losing this argument.

"Sydney, I don't think Vaughn would report you…" Now she's mocking me.

"Of course he wouldn't, but…"

"What? Why is it so dangerous? Why can't you tell him the truth? Why are you so scared?"

"Why? Why? Why? – What are you? five years old?" I try to escape.

"I know what you're doing and it's not going to work with me. Just answer." Now she sounds like an angry mother.

"If I tell him he'll leave me." I blurt out; and admitting this out loud is the hardest thing I've ever done.

"No he won't!"

"Of course he will. I'm useless to him as Sydney. He is with Julia because he can gather intel from her."

"Okay, now I'm really confused. You're not making any sense. We started this discussion because I thought you seemed too convinced that Vaughn was in love with you and that your marriage was for real."

"I can't be sure, Hannah." I pause "And even if he does love me and our marriage is indeed for real I don't think he would ever admit it – to me or to himself, you know?

"Now _this_ doesn't make any sense. He would know that you are not evil. He would know that Julia is just an alias." She smiles.

"Well, that could be even worse."

"Sydney, how on earth could this be worse?" I've wore her patience down.

"Because he might love Julia; he doesn't love me."

"Uh… I don't think he's ever stopped loving you… but even if we go with your crazy logic – you are Julia, sweetie…" she looks at me as if I have completely lost my mind.

"No. I'm Sydney."

"Even better?" It's an affirmative and a question at the same time. "You're the woman he loves minus the terrorist and assassin detail."

"No. I'm the woman who has been lying to him for two years."

"Oh. I see…" she gets it now. There is no best case scenario here; there is no way this situation will have a happy end. Not telling Vaughn; telling Vaughn – I'll lose him anyway.

That grease stain seems fairly interesting again.

"He might forgive you…" Hannah tries.

"I doubt it. And I don't want him to." I say trying to keep my voice steady.

"What?"

"I'll never be able to give him for real what I can give him in this little fairytale world we live in for now. I'll never be able to give him what has been making him happy: a home, a family, an almost normal life. There will always be someone hunting me; my life will always be messed up. Lauren…" I have to take a breath to hide a sob "Lauren might be able to give him the life he deserves. Who knows?"

"I thought you said he belonged with you, not with her."

"No. I said he's my soul mate."

"Isn't it the same?"

"Oh, no. No, it isn't." I wish I could cry, but my pain seems to be beyond tears. "He might not end up with Lauren, but he will find someone else. Someone better."

Hannah lets go of the spoon she has been using to stir the sauce and envelopes me in a hug. I can barely feel her arms around me. I'm beyond consolation. I know she regrets ever starting this conversation. So do I. Vaughn is mine for the time being and I should concentrate on the present and leave the future for later. I'll have to live through it anyway.


	29. Chapter 28

**A/N:** Hey, guys! Sorry I haven't left you any notes lately; it's just that life has been crazy. And sorry about last chapter's sadness, too; this one is better, I promise. Thank you very, very much for reading and reviewing!

**Chapter twenty eight**

I've been out shopping for Christmas presents with Carrie and Mitchell this afternoon and when I park my car in the garage at home I get a glimpse of Vaughn and a woman in her sixties talking next to the fountain in our front yard. I can't hear what they're saying but from their body language I can tell that this is an argument. They haven't noticed my arrival. Not sure about what to do, I avoid the front entrance and go round the house to the rear door. Hannah is in the kitchen.

"Hi, Hannah. Do you know who is the woman talking to Vaughn outside?" I ask.

"Yes I do." She sounds concerned. "It's his mother."

"What?! No, it's not possible."

"Except it is. She simply rang the doorbell and when I answered it she told me she was Mrs. Bailey, Christopher's mother." I can't believe it and Hannah keeps going. "Then Vaughn came to the foyer and nearly had a stroke upon seeing her standing there. The lady has good spy skills, though: she told me that she and her son had not been speaking to each other for years. Then she turned to him explaining that she came here to make up with him."

"And he?"

"He told me they'd be out in the yard and guided her outside. Poor him. He was completely befuddled." Hannah shakes her head "Anyway, I heard the beginning of their talk. He asked her what she was doing here; she said she missed her only son and wanted to spend Christmas with him. And then they were out of my ear ranch."

"God…"

"I think you should go talk to them." Hannah says.

"What? It'll only make everything worse. How is Christopher going to explain to Julia that his mother is here? He never mentioned her. She wasn't there for the wedding…"

"She solved this problem for him: they weren't speaking to each other." she points out.

"Hannah, it's not that easy." I counter.

"Are you afraid of facing your mother-in-law, sweetie?" she smiles at me.

"Not the best time to tease me, Hannah." I retort.

"Oh my God, you _are_ afraid to face her, aren't you?" she is shocked and a little amused.

"It's complicate." I say cringing. Truth is I've always been worried about meeting Amélie Vaughn. My mother having killed her husband certainly does not set a good prediction to our relationship.

"Sydney, I think he needs your help." Hannah is serious now.

"Hannah, to him I am a terrorist who would kill him, his mother and his friends if I ever found out who they really are. That's why his mother being here is a problem in the first place. Trust me: the last thing he wants is my help."

"Well, _you_ know you're not the enemy. You're the only one who can convince him that he doesn't need to be afraid."

"How?" I ask "And don't even start with your 'you should tell him the truth' speech." I warn.

"Actually, I'd go for the illusion. Go there and make him forget the CIA, the Covenant, all the spy stuff. Just be his wife. He'll believe you; it _is_ the truth, after all, for you at least." She smiles and I realize that she is right. So I take a deep breath, trying to calm down, and head to my front yard.

Vaughn looks defeated, but Amélie seems to be quite pleased with herself. She is a beautiful and naturally elegant woman, just like I pictured her. She wears a cream-colored overcoat and fancy shoes. Her short gray hair is almost entirely hidden beneath a nice black velvet hat. She notices my presence when I'm a few feet away from them and turns to me with a warm smile.

"Hello! You must be Julia." Vaughn looks like he's going to drop dead right there, but she ignores him. "I'm Christopher's mom." She has a hint of French accent.

I've never felt this shy my whole life; my voice is refusing to come out.

"It's very nice to meet you..." – I finally say and in horror I realize that I was about to call her 'Mrs. Vaughn" – "…Mrs. Bailey." I finish.

"Oh, dear, please call me Amélie; we're family." She takes my hands in hers and suddenly I feel like crying. It's something about the kindness of her voice and the softness of her hands. It makes me wish to really become part of her family. Almost unconsciously I step closer to her and she knows: we hug each other tightly and she runs her hand down my hair like only a mother can do. Vaughn is stunned.

"Will you be spending Christmas with us, Amélie?" I ask stepping out of her arms still fighting back tears.

"If you'll have me…" she says with a smile. Her voice is like a warm blanket in a cold night.

"Of course we'll have you! I'm so glad you're here…" I grin "And I know that Chris is too." I look at him and when he returns my glance there is relief and appreciation in his eyes. There is also love. And I know I made it: I'm the wife I wished I could be, even in my very twisted situation; he is looking at me as if I am that one person that can make everything okay. And he loves me; not who I was, but who I am right now.

"I am. I truly am, Maman." he tells his mother and squeezes my hand.

She gazes at us for a moment and smiles.

"You know, Julia, mothers usually think that no woman in the world will be good enough for their sons. I was like that myself. But you just proved me completely wrong and I am very, very happy for you both." she says.

At first I think she is just being nice, but when I see Vaughn's almost shocked expression I realize that this is serious and means a great deal. Tears come to my eyes again and Amélie hugs me once more.

"We should go inside. It's cold here. Would you like some tea, Amélie?" I suggest.

"Oh, I'd love some, dear. And we should get to know each other better. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for your wedding..." I can tell she really is. For real or not, it was her son's wedding, after all.

"You're here now. And I'll show you the wedding pictures and tell you everything about it." I promise.

"I'm sure it was a beautiful wedding." she smiles softly and as I agree and start telling her about Siena and the church and the flowers I realize that it will be really hard to pretend to be Julia Thorne around Mrs. Vaughn. It's been less than ten minutes and I already love her.

………………………………………………

I've always loved Christmas, but it has always been a sad time for me too, even before my mother's death/extraction. We never knew whether Dad would be able to spend it with us. Still, Mom would take me to pick a tree and we would decorate it beautifully listening to Christmas songs. She told me that the colorful glass balls represented our good actions and I hung them remembering what good things I had done over the year and promising myself that the next Christmas there would be even more balls to put on the tree. I also helped her bake cookies and she read me Christmas tales. On Christmas morning I'd wake up to the sound of my snowman music box and her smile. And then we'd wait for Dad. He usually made it, even if he arrived only late afternoon, but one year he called to let us know that something had happened and he'd only be back in two days. I cried. Mom told me it was still Christmas and I should be happy that I had a Daddy to miss and to wait for. And that's how I learned that Christmas might not be a happy time every year, but it will always be about love and family and promises of a better world.

Growing up I didn't have family around, and sometimes I would feel sad when a Christmas song played on the radio or when I watched a Christmas movie. Soon, though, I learned that I could make my own merry Christmas and invite friends to be with me. I spent lovely holidays with Francie and Will, and then with Danny. He was the promise that one day I would have a family as perfect as those in the movies. The first Christmas after he passed away, I missed him _and_ that hope. But Vaughn gave me the picture frame and although I wouldn't have admitted it then, I started hoping for something much, much bigger: a real family, of which image would be displayed in that frame one day.

We hadn't come much closer to that the next year, but that's when I learned that no matter what Vaughn would be there for me – even if I found out that my own father had programmed me to be a spy, he would hold me and make things okay. And our future family seemed even more real: we would have problems, but we would face them together and become closer and stronger because of them.

The next Christmas was the worst of my life. I had been tortured for months; I had been subjected to every known brainwash technique and when I could finally escape I was told that I couldn't go back home. So I became Julia Thorne. I moved in my apartment at Piazza Barberini early December. Obviously I had no intention to get a Christmas tree, but two days before the holidays I felt so depressed that I went searching for one. My tree was the ugliest one I had ever seen, but it was the last one available, so I did my best to make it look nice with the few decorations I had purchased. On Christmas Eve I lit my fireplace and ate marshmallows watching a young Judy Garland – immortalized by the miracles of the camera – wish me a merry little Christmas. I cried myself to sleep that night; I had no promises left; no frame to encase the lost image of my family.

When the next Christmas came things were better. Julia and Christopher were starting their relationship, so for the first time I got to spend the holidays with Vaughn. We got a tree to his apartment and decorated it together on Christmas Eve. We spent that night together and when I woke up in the morning the first thing I saw were his eyes. I remember thinking that that was the best Christmas present ever. He gave me an antique music box, which I love. It's made in dark wood with flowers and leaves inlaid on the lid, and it plays Beethoven's Reverie. It sits on my nightstand and I listen to it every night before going to sleep. I gave him a black leather briefcase very similar to the one he used in LA. He didn't have one here in Rome and I missed it, remembering a time when it hid the most coveted secrets of my handler: fragments of him – his CIA badge; his driver's license; a King's pen; his files on me, containing everything he wrote about his asset. I spent many nights fantasizing about his grip on the pen, making it slide softly and steadily on the paper, leaving on it the traces of my presence in his life; and his hands leafing through those pages, caressing those bodies of letters which were part of me; the part of me he could have; and his eyes reading those pieces of information, unveiling my secrets, lovingly striping me out of my veils, out of my aliases. When I watch him carrying the briefcase I am reminded of that time of innocence and discoveries, when things seemed so hard, but were in fact much easier.

Last Christmas, the first one we spent in the villa, was nice and simple. Weiss came over for lunch and we exchanged gifts. He brought us a pretty figure of a young god Bacchus made in ceramic, which I immediately put in the display case in the living room. We gave him a professional magician set that he absolutely loved. And we also made him a very official-looking free-access card to the villa as a joke. It was my idea and when I first talked to Vaughn about it he told me that it was perfect and that I seemed to have known Weiss for years. Of course he regretted saying that immediately after the words left his mouth; I could actually see him cringing and silently cursing himself, and I had to rescue him by changing the subject so he could recompose. Weiss really enjoyed our little joke, though; he actually carries his card in his wallet and presents it to Hannah whenever he comes to see us – they always have a good laugh.

As Vaughn and I were still in the process of decorating our home, we agreed to get each other pieces for the villa as presents. So I gave him a new chair for his desk in our study and he gave me a pair of table lamps for the living room. Of course we both ended up breaking the deal and buying each other personal gifts in secret, though. Wandering for Via Condotti I saw a jacket that would look perfect on Vaughn and couldn't resist buying it; and apparently something similar happened to him. So, as I handed him a gift box with his new jacket, he chuckled and passed me an even bigger box, inside of which I found a gorgeous burgundy dress that I actually plan on wearing for the party we're holding on Christmas Eve this year.

As crazy as it sounds, it was actually Cole's idea. He heard about the dinner party Vaughn and I had in November to welcome Marshall and his family to Rome and apparently felt utterly hurt for not being invited, so he practically decided that we would be holding what he called the "Covenant's Christmas Celebration" in the villa. When he informed us of these plans, Vaughn looked at me in utter disbelief and all I could do was chuckle. Cole didn't mind our less than enthusiastic reactions at all, though, and I ended up thinking that it would be better not to argue with the madman. So, I've been planning the party with Hannah's and Carrie's help, and although I'd rather not have three dozens real Covenant officers in my house for Christmas, I still want it to be nice for my friends and specially for Mitchell. And now that Amélie came to stay with us, I've truly warmed up to the whole thing. What if I have to welcome some unwanted guests? Every party has them, right?

I tell Amélie about the Christmas celebration over dinner and she immediately jumps into it, asking me about the guests, the menu, the decoration, the music and all other sorts of details. As she gets more and more excited talking about the Christmas gatherings she used to hold I glance at Vaughn and the expression of pure joy I see on his face is priceless. He smiles at his mother in a way I have never seen he smile before and I'm content just to watch it, because seeing him happy makes me happy. Amélie seems to notice the infatuation in my glance, because at some point I feel her hand on mine and when I look at her a meaningful grin spreads upon her face. She is silent for a moment and I wonder what she's thinking.

"I'm sure that we'll have a great party and a merry Christmas." is all she says, but it sounds like she means much more.

"Yes, we will." I agree. And as Vaughn embraces me in his loving smile my heart fills with hope and promises.


	30. Chapter 29

**A/N: **Hey, everyone! Yes, it was a typo when Sydney said "Vaughn" last chapter. I've already edited it. Sorry for confusing you and thank you Nicki and RocknVaughn for warning me! You see, I'm anxious for her to tell him the truth too :)

milady89, we're not _in flashback_ anymore; I just wanted us to have a glimpse at Sydney's Christmas memories, hence the short flashback. This chapter is all in the present!

mari, I actually had to draw a time line for this story so that I wouldn't get lost myself. Maybe you guys would like to have it too, so here is a sketch:

**1. **Sydney is abducted by the Covenant. **2. **She contacts Kendall nine months later. **3.** Vaughn and Weiss go to Rome when she's been there for 15 months. **4.** "Julia" and "Christopher" start dating three months later. **5.** "Christopher" proposes after 8 months of dating. **6.** They get married approximately two months later (on October 1st) [_all of this and their first eleven months as a married couple was written as a long flashback – chapters 3-22. Chapters 23 and 24 make the transition back to the present and to the beginning of the story (Prologue and chapter 1)._] **7.** They celebrate their first anniversary (chapter 25). **8.** Marshall arrives. **9.** Amélie arrives and they plan a Christmas party. [_That's where I left you last chapter_].

So, mari, finally answering your question: at this point, they've been married for approximately fifteen months.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

**Chapter twenty nine**

The house smells of cedar, caramel and cinnamon; cheerful voices echo through the rooms and there's excitement in the air; the stereo announces that "Santa Claus has come to town". It's morning on Christmas Eve and I already know that this will be one of the best holidays I've ever had.

I sent Weiss, Marshall and Leonid to work – someone had to be there –, but everyone else is involved with the preparations for tonight. Vaughn is checking the lights and decorations outside the house. Hannah is setting the table in the dinning room with the special Christmas tablecloth and china. Carrie and Mitchell are in the living room finishing the tree Vaughn and I started decorating last night, and apparently Mitchell is having a blast with it. From the kitchen, where we're happily busy preparing our Christmas dinner, Amélie and I can hear him beaming.

Things are frantic around here. I hired a catering service and they're already roasting a goose, a turkey and a pork's leg, making lots of creamy mashed potatoes, a green bean casserole and a huge amount of saffron-scented rice, and baking mince pies. Amélie and I decided that we would make the desserts ourselves, though, so we have our hands full. I'm preparing the dough for the struffoli and candying lots of almonds and chestnuts, respecting Italian tradition. Amélie is making a very French bûche de Noël, which she told me Vaughn loved as a child. She baked a pistachio cake in a long and narrow cake tin, covered it with a thick layer of chocolate ganache and furrowed it using a fork so it really looks like a tree trunk; now she is pinning miniature figures of reindeers, snowmen, pine trees and even a Santa Claus on it. The typical Christmas pudding, made with cherries, dried fruits and all sorts of spices, rests on the top of the stove, freshly baked. We'll also have chocolate truffles and marzipan figures to offer our guests.

"Everything is ready outside." Vaughn announces, coming inside the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do to help you in here?" he sounds truly excited.

"Julia and I got everything under control." His mother assures him.

"Oh, I see." He makes a face at her. "Don't let her enslave you." he tells me and I roll my eyes at him playfully.

"Don't worry. I'm perfectly fine." I say, kissing him on the cheek.

"For your information, Christopher" – Amélie starts severely – "Julia and I make a great team, if you haven't noticed."

He looks at us for a moment and I can't quite read his expression.

"Actually I have, Maman." He pauses. "And I've always known you would."

Amélie puts the tiny elf she was about to pin on the bûche down on the worktop, turns to Vaughn and cups his face in her hands. There's a shadow of sadness and lots of sympathy in her eyes and I wonder how much she knows of Vaughn's and my history together. But then she looks at me standing right beside them and the smile comes back to her face.

"You couldn't have been more right, dear." she tells Vaughn.

He glances at me and I know that this is a question as much as an invitation and a ceremony. I don't hesitate. I take a step closer to him and he pulls me into a hug; Amélie joins us and I realize that this moment, right here, is as solemn and important as my wedding was. Marrying a man is one step; become part of his family is another one. And I might not know where Vaughn stands with his choices, but I know his mother is choosing me.

She steps away and smiles at both of us sweetly.

"Okay, my dear children. Now come here and tell me what you think of our bûche de Noël." She says going back to her master piece and putting it on the kitchen table so we can admire it.

"It looks lovely, Amélie." I tell her smiling.

"Wait until you taste it" Vaughn says hugging me from behind, squeezing me tightly and pressing a kiss on my temple.

……………………………………….

By six p.m. everything is set. The food is ready and the house looks beautiful. Hannah is downstairs giving instructions to the four waiters we hired; Carrie and Mitchell went home to change and meet Marshall; and Amélie, Vaughn and I are upstairs taking showers and getting dressed. We don't expect our guests to arrive until seven, but I'm not surprised to find Weiss chatting with Amélie as soon as I come downstairs, while Vaughn is still getting ready in our bedroom.

"Hey! Merry Christmas!" I say to Weiss, who looks very elegant in a black tuxedo.

"Merry Christmas to you too!" he smiles and greets me with a kiss on the cheek.

"Julia, you look absolutely stunning." Amélie says to me with a proud motherly smile. "This dress is gorgeous."

"Oh, Christopher gave it to me last Christmas." I tell her.

"Really? Well, I can rest in peace; now I know I taught him well. It fits you perfectly and this burgundy shade goes wonderfully well with your skin tone." She says.

"Why, thank you, Maman!" Vaughn exclaims coming down the stairs.

"Well, dear, I'm proud of you. You certainly know how to make your wife beautiful." She pats him on the arm.

"Oh, she doesn't need me for that." He says glancing at me. My smile fades and I actually blush under the intensity of his stare. It's amazing; we've been married for more than a year now, and he can still do this to me.

Weiss clears his throat warningly and rolls his eyes at us. Vaughn chuckles and suggests that we check if everything is ready. Weiss offers his arm to Amélie like a true gentleman and they walk together through the foyer and inside the living room. Before I can follow them, Vaughn stops me putting his hands around my waist. He looks down at me and I'm burning.

"You're so beautiful" he whispers.

I look directly into his eyes wondering what would happen if I simply told him the truth, right here, right now. For the first time I believe it could be fine and this amazing scene plays in my mind. He wouldn't falter, not even for a second. His eyes would clear from all sorrow, from all doubt; a smile would light up his face slowly; he would let his eyelids down for a moment in a silent prayer; his soft chuckle would take away the tension and he would lift me in his arms and spin me around, making the burgundy silk of my dress fly above the white marble floor of our piano room. I would throw my head back and giggle like a little girl. And then he would put me down holding me tightly and give me a long, searing kiss.

I wish he could read my mind; I wish I could tell him everything; and I wish he could forgive me. By now I know that I'm not keeping this secret because Kendall ordered me to; it's not my devotion to the job keeping me silent; my only reason is the fear of losing Vaughn.

I'm brought back to reality when he kisses me.

"I wish we could call off this party." I tell him when we break the kiss. My voice is weak.

"Why? I thought you were all excited about it." He furrows his brow at my sudden mood swing.

"No. No. I just want to be with you; I want the whole world to disappear so I can be with you." I say, and a tear rolls down my face.

He wipes it away with his thumb. Now he looks concerned and a bit intrigued. I'm being way too emotional, even for Sydney, but I fell very weak right now.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asks softly.

There is so much I could say, so much I want to say…

"Nothing. I guess I'm only tired. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm your husband. You don't have to pretend or withhold with me; you don't have to be strong."

He means well, but the irony of what he says almost makes me wince in pain.

"I'm fine; really." I assure him, trying to convince myself.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"Yes." My voice comes out steadier this time.

"Okay." He pauses and lets his eyes travel all the way down my body and back to my face. "Just so you know…" he grins "I wish we could call off the party too."

I chuckle and slap his arm playfully as we make our way to the living room.

………………………………………………

I am the perfect hostess tonight, walking through the house checking on things, talking to my guests, making sure everyone is having fun. I taste the wine and the food, and make several trips to the kitchen, just in case. Every once in a while I get a glimpse of Vaughn – talking to his mother or Leonid or Marshall, discussing sports with guys I know he hates, playing with Mitchell, eating, pretending that he doesn't want to punch Cole right on the face, making fun of Weiss for some reason or another, following me around with his eyes. No matter what he is doing, or how far away we stand from one another, our glances will meet and we'll get lost in a shared smile. When we are finally able to escape from the guests for a moment, he pulls me aside and tells me that I look absolutely fantastic and that he doesn't know how he got lucky enough to marry me. And the best of all is that I know that he truly means what he says; I can see it in his eyes.

I'm talking to Simon Walker (a freelance agent whose services the Covenant uses quite often and who is obnoxious to the point of making moves on me even with Vaughn around), when I see Mitchell half-asleep in an armchair. So I get rid of my dreadful admirer, scoop the little boy up and take refuge with him in the library. I sit down on the couch and cradle Mitchell in my arms. His eyes are almost closed, but he asks me to read him a story with his little voice. There are no children's books here, but I figure that he only needs to hear the sound of my voice to fall asleep, so I reach for the volume lying on the coffee table. To my surprise, it's the first edition of _Anna Karenina_ I bought in Prague, and Vaughn's bookmark is inside it. I open the book at the page where it rests and start reading the paragraph on the top:

"_He vividly recalled all the constantly recurring instances of inevitable necessity for lying and deceit, which were so against his natural bent. He recalled particularly vividly the shame he had more than once detected in her at this necessity for lying and deceit. And he experiences the strange feeling that had sometimes come upon him since his secret love for Anna. This was a feeling of loathing for something--whether for Aleksey Alexandrovich, or for himself, or for the whole world, he could not have said. But he always drove away this strange feeling. Now, too, he shook it off and continued the thread of his thoughts._"

Before I can dwell on the acute appropriateness of that passage concerning my relationship with Vaughn, I hear his voice right beside me.

"Are you reading Tolstoy to Mitchell?!" he asks sounding amused. I must have been so entangled with the reading that I didn't hear him coming inside. Not good for a spy.

"Have _you_ been reading Tolstoy?" I ask, looking up at him.

"Yes. Why are you so surprised? I like Tolstoy." he says with an expression I can't quite read.

"Really? Isn't it too… long?" Now I'm sure I had way too much wine to drink. Why on earth would I say something like that?

"Well, I happen to like long stories." He says and I don't know what to think. This could mean nothing; or this could mean everything.

"Yeah. Me too." I say vaguely.

Mitchell, who is slightly awake now, glance at Vaughn and me with his big blue eyes.

"It's a nice quotation you were reading, but I like another one even better." he says, reaching for the book and taking it from me. "Here it is: _In spite of death, he felt the need for life and love. He felt that love saved him from despair, and that this love, under the threat of despair, had become still stronger and purer. The one mystery of death, still unsolved, had scarcely passed before his eyes, when another mystery had arisen, as insoluble, calling to love and to life._"

"That is pretty." I tell him, wondering whether he is truly making Tolstoy's words his own; and whether Julia is for him the insoluble mystery, _calling to love and to life_, that arose after his life had been haunted by death. Could he be telling me what I desperately want to believe in: that _under the threat of despair our love has become still stronger and purer_? Is he telling me that he loves Julia? Is he telling me that he loves me? Is he saying that he knows the truth?

"This is my favorite quote by Tolstoy." he says.

"Really?" I'm about to ask why, but I lose courage in the last moment and go for what seems a safe way out. A house full of Covenant agents doesn't seem the best scenario for big revelations, anyway. "I thought everyone's favorite was the infamous '_All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way_'."

"Oh, no. That's only because it's the first sentence in the book. People quote it and everyone believes they read Tolstoy without them having to actually read it… it's – you know – long." He chuckles.

"I see. It's still a smart sentence, though."

"Yes." He shrugs. "I don't think I agree with it, though."

"You don't?"

"No. I think there are many different kinds of happy families; and many ways to build one." I can tell he gave this some thought.

"I think you're right." I finally say, smiling at him.

"I know I am." He smiles back.

Mitchell rests his head on my arm, finally closing his eyes, and I rub his soft hair. Vaughn looks down at us and I know, I just know he is in love with me, no matter who I am. I only wish I always had this confidence.

"I'll go call Hannah to look after him. We should go back to the party." he says after a moment and I don't want him to leave, not even for a couple of minutes, as silly as it sounds.

Before he goes, Carrie and Marshall come inside the library, apologizing profusely for giving us any trouble, and taking Mitchell. We assure them it was no trouble at all as we say our goodbyes and merry Christmas.

The last of the guests leave after three in the morning and I'm exhausted, but Amélie assures me that the party was a success and that I should be very proud. She goes up to her bedroom, but I stay downstairs to check with Hannah if everything is okay. At some point in these last days my professional paranoia kicked in and I started obsessing with the possibility that Cole intended to try and steal something from the house during the reception. Hannah assures me that nothing like this happened, though, and I'm relieved.

Back from the kitchen, I meet Vaughn in the living room. He is gazing at the Christmas tree. I stand beside him and lay my head on his shoulder. He puts his arm around my back and I sigh in contentment. The music is still on and I hear a jazzy sax give the first chords to "Have yourself a merry little Christmas" and Topsy Chapman's deep voice start to sing it. It's a sad song, that speaks of rough times, and it reminds me of that Christmas when I felt the loneliest I've ever been, but as Vaughn pulls me closer and we start dancing holding each other, I do let my heart be light and all my troubles be out of sight. I close my eyes and the world slowly fades away around me; all I can feel is his arms around my waist and my back. When the song ends he scoops me up in his arms and carries me upstairs.

We lie facing one another in bed and I stare deeply into his eyes until I can't fight sleep anymore, and the last thing I see is his smile – or maybe it's just that dream of it.


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter thirty**

Christmas Day is nice and quiet. Amélie, Vaughn and I sit around the tree to open presents in the morning. He gives me a brooch in the shape of a rose with the stem and the tiny leaves made of silver and the petals made of coral.

"This one will last forever." he says softly, watching as I hold the little rose carefully in my hands as if it is something sacred.

"It's beautiful. I love it." I tell him with a smile. All I can think is that at least this one rose I'll be able to carry with me when I have to leave our life here behind. And keeping it will mean the world to me.

Curiously, though, it's through Vaughn's present to his mother that I get the best gift I could hope for this Christmas. He made her a scrapbook with pictures of their family, starting with her engagement to his father, and then their wedding, their first days at home in Fleury, her pregnancy, Vaughn's baptism and all their family pictures – having picnics, working together in the garden, building sandcastles at the beach, celebrating birthdays, Christmases and New Years. It's always the three of them together in the beginning; then it's only Vaughn and Amélie, but one could feel the void Bill left in their lives: it's in their eyes and in their smile; it's in the way they hold each other close.

As Amélie leafs through the pages I get to see pieces of Vaughn's life I could only wonder about. He is there as a teenager in his hockey uniform, and wearing a gown at his College graduation ceremony, and then looking absolutely charming in a suit, not long before the time we first met, I guess. There are also pictures of Amélie in her house in LA, and a great one of her and Vaughn preparing a Thanksgiving dinner together. The last picture shows the two of them sitting on a swing, talking and smiling at each other, oblivious to the camera. And then there is a blank page.

I have tears in my eyes as I watch them both with their heads bowed over the book, revisiting the lifetime they shared; and I'm overwhelmed by the love in the scene unfolding in front of me – another image in this family's history.

"You are the most wonderful son, my dear." Amélie tells Vaughn cupping his face in her hands.

"No. You are the most wonderful mother, Maman." he answers.

She is silent for a moment, touching the scrapbook with her fingertips in a light caress. And then what she says envelops me in a warming, loving hug.

"May I take a picture of the two of you for the last page?" she asks, smiling at her son and me, already standing up to go get her camera.

I'm out of words. I can't help thinking that my image would taint that beautiful album, that beautiful family; on the other hand, I desperately want to become part of it.

"Amélie…" I start, but she cuts me gently.

"You're part of this family, my darling." she says and I don't fight it anymore. Vaughn turns to me and for a moment I'm afraid of what I may see in his eyes. When I build up the courage to look, though, all I see is a smile that matches mine.

Hannah, who's been watching us, takes the picture using Amélie's camera.

"I'm sorry to intrude, but this is beautiful." She says, handing me the camera.

Amélie, Vaughn and I look at the image captured on the small screen: he and I are smiling at each other as Amélie watches us from behind.

I feel blessed.

………………………………………………

Weiss comes over for our late Christmas lunch and Amélie helps me in the kitchen. There are lots of leftovers from the party, so we don't have to cook, but it's still a lot to do – even if it's just reheating stuff –, and Hannah took the afternoon free (she's been going out quite often lately, and I'm beginning to suspect that she is seeing someone). I don't mind it, though; I really enjoy spending time with my mother-in-law. We talk to each other as if we were old friends and she seems to really care about me. Plus, I get to hear great stories from Vaughn's childhood.

The Gods seem to be on his side, though, because they punish me for having fun at his expense. As I take the tray with the turkey out of the oven, while laughing at the idea of a cute little Vaughn playing D'Artagnan for his school's version of _The Three Musketeers_, I let my glove slip, and burn my hand. It doesn't look serious, but Amélie rushes to my side anyway, checking the damage and applying some ointment to the injury. After she makes sure that I'm fine, though, her expression changes completely. She is still holding my hand and looking attentively at it, but her focus is not the burn anymore.

"It's a gorgeous ring, isn't it?" she says, admiring my emerald and diamond engagement ring.

"Yes…" I say, wondering what is with her tone. She talks about the ring as if it has some personal value to her.

"Has my son ever told you the history of this ring?" she asks me, smiling.

"No; I don't think so." I answer, surprised. All Vaughn told me was that he bought the ring from an antiques' dealer in Barcelona when he was there for a weekend. I knew that to be a lie – he was in LA that weekend –, but I never though that there could be a history (and apparently a _family_ history) to the piece.

"Well, would you like to hear it?" she asks.

"Yes, I would. Very much." I'm so excited that my hand doesn't even hurt anymore.

"It belonged to my mother-in-law." she starts.

"Really?! I didn't know that…" Oh my God! Amélie wouldn't simply make up such a thing, would she? But why would Vaughn give his fake fiancée his grandmother's ring?

"She had a long happy marriage and she loved the ring." Amélie explains. "After she passed, my husband brought it to our house and kept it safe. He told Christopher that he should give that ring to the woman he chose to marry, but only if he truly believed that she was the love of his life."

My eyes are glistened with tears. Amélie notices them, but says nothing.

"My son was seven by then and I'm sure he didn't understand why a man would marry a woman who was not the love of his life. I hoped he never would." A shadow of sadness crosses her face, and I wonder if she is thinking of Lauren, but then it dissipates into a hopeful smile as she looks at me again. "I'm so glad that he gave you the ring…"

"What do you mean?" I ask, and Amélie cringes, realizing she said too much.

"I'm glad you found each other, my dear, that's all." she says, and I don't push further. She's on my side; I'm the daughter of the woman who killed her husband, supposedly turned into a cold-blooded assassin, and still, she's on my side – this is much, much more than I could ever hope for.

I stare at my beautiful ring, which now holds a whole new meaning, when Vaughn comes in to check on us.

"Why are you staring at your…? Oh, honey, you burned your hand!" he gasps, not quite figuring things out and taking my hand carefully in his as if it was an injured little bird. My eyes fill with tears.

"I'm fine." I tell him. He presses a soft kiss right beside the burn.

"Thank you." I say, hoping he could understand what I truly mean.

……………………………………………

Weiss, Amélie, Vaughn and I share a great meal, and I'm able to really enjoy the amazing food and the desserts I was too busy to eat last night. Marshall, Carrie and Mitchell show up late afternoon and my movie-like holiday comes to life as Amélie and I play Christmas songs on the piano and everyone sings along. Weiss is terribly off-key and we make fun of him mercilessly. He doesn't seem to mind, though. Apparently, he loves to sing, even though he is so bad at it. Leonid and Hannah arrive in the early evening and we all gather around the fireplace in the living room, sipping from our large cups full of creamy hot chocolate and sharing old Christmas memories.

At some point, sitting here with my new found family, I look around and realize that it's not promises or hopes what fills my heart right now; it's the joy of present life itself.

……………………………………………….

We say goodbye to Amélie this morning, just a couple of days after Christmas, and it is hard. She hugs me tightly at the front door, cups my face in her hands and presses a kiss on my forehead, like only a mother would. Vaughn watches us with an expression which is a mix of joy and concern.

"We'll see each other again soon, my dear." Amélie promises me, but I know that there is a very real chance that I'll never see her again – not as my mother-in-law, anyway.

"I hope we will." I tell her, being absolutely honest, but feeling the uncertainty of my situation weight on me.

Vaughn cuts our farewell short by warning us about the time. He will be taking Amélie to the airport before going to the office, and for once I wish I had planted a bug in his car so I could hear the talk I'm sure they'll have. I stand at the porch waving good bye as they drive away. Hannah puts her arms around me when the car goes out of sight.

"Poor Lauren…" she says in an evil tone.

"Why?" I ask.

"Do you really need to ask?" she chuckles and I smile in spite of my gloomy mood. "If she ever marries Vaughn – which I seriously doubt –, her life will be a living hell."

"Amélie is a good person, Hannah. And she will want her son to be happy." I ponder.

"My point exactly; plus, she loves you." she pats my shoulder. "As does her son, by the way." she adds; and I smile in surrender.


	32. Chapter 31

**A/N: **Hey, guys! Thanks for reading and reviewing, as usual.

horsegirl: I'm so glad you like the story! Thank you for your ever kind reviews. :)

RocknVaughn: don't worry; I'm sure Sydney is as curious about her ring as you are; she'll have Vaughn explain everything to her as soon as possible.

mylady89: you're absolutely right. We have to get this plot moving. These last chapters have been a transition of sorts, and from now on the pace quickens.

Nicki and Steph: I'm afraid to say too much and spoil the story for you guys, but the signs are there…

**Chapter thirty one**

I'm on a plane going back home from Denmark. Vaughn and Weiss are with me but we don't talk; we don't even look at one another.

The Covenant sent us to steal a Rambaldi artifact – an inkwell of which fluid was another one of the secret ingredients to the everlasting life elixir – and destroy the facility where it was kept. It was a clandestine lab in the sublevel of a regular apartment building in Copenhagen, and the CIA determined that it would be too dangerous to carry out the mission and blow up the place as we were supposed to. There might not be enough time to evacuate the building and civilians could die. So, we needed to let the back-up Covenant agents set the explosives and then disengage them to stop the detonation.

I had a bad feeling about this mission as soon as Kendall detailed it to me. It sounded awfully similar to that disastrous operation in Badenweiler I went in with Dixon years ago. Kendall dismissed my concerns, though. Vaughn and Weiss would be there and _they_ would disarm the explosives; it was their counter-mission, not mine. I shouldn't worry about a thing. All I had to do was get the Rambaldi Inkwell for the CIA and deliver a counterfeit to the Covenant. Everything would be okay.

It wasn't, though.

Something went wrong, the sublevel blew up and soon the whole building was coming down. Twelve people were killed, a child among them. It was Badenweiler all over again, except worse, because those people weren't agents; they were simply living their normal lives, spending time in their homes, feeling safe.

Vaughn looks as if he has been tortured. His head is bent down and his eyes are fixed on his hands resting on his lap. Weiss is gazing at the darkness outside the window. They can't even talk to each other about what happened. As far as they know I have every reason to consider the mission a success, and earlier today I overdid myself to keep them thinking this way: I said horrible things; I celebrated the outcome of the operation, while wincing in pain in the inside. It makes me sick to have to act like this; to lie to them, to let they think I'm such a cruel, evil person. And most of all, it kills me that I can't do anything to help them. I wish I could say something. If it wasn't for Vaughn, I would have probably lost my mind completely after Badenweiler; it was him who saved me from sinking into my guilt then. Now I see him right where I was and I can't do a thing.

At some point I can't take it anymore, and decide that if I can't say anything at least I can try and do something. So I rub the short hair on the back of his neck with my hand, trying to catch his attention. He looks at me sideways.

"Are you okay?" I ask him softly. It's a stupid question, I know, but I'm not supposed to understand what he's going through.

"I'm tired." he says, and the emptiness in his voice and in his glance scares me. I'd expect him to be mad, to despise me, to look at me with disgust, maybe – from where he sees it, I'm the bad guy, after all. He doesn't, though. He is just really tired; and I realize that I am too. I'm tired of the lies. I'm tired of pretending the pretense.

I run my thumb on his forehead, trying to smooth the wrinkles there, and the familiarity of the movement catches his attention. He looks directly into my eyes and I smile at him. He doesn't say anything, though. His head comes to rest on the hollow of my neck and I hold him carefully, praying for him to understand, for him to know – if not who I am, at least how I feel about him.

………………………………………………..

We're still miserable today at the office, and Vaughn won't even talk to me, God knows why.

He didn't sleep at all last night. I could feel him shifting and turning beside me, until he gave up for good and spent the night sitting in the armchair in our bedroom. He stared at the walls and I almost could see him scribbling on them, trying to make sense of his thoughts, of his life. I watched him for hours, figuring it might be better to give him some space. But then he turned his glance to me and there was a plea in his eyes. So I got up and went to sit on his lap; he wrapped his blanked around me, pulling me closer, and we simply stayed there, holding each other in the dusk.

This morning, though, he didn't speak to me; he didn't even let me help with his tie. When I came inside the closet, he was fully dressed already. Without looking at me, he told me he was leaving earlier.

"Aren't you having breakfast?" I asked.

"No." he answered shortly.

"Okay. See you at work." I said, not quite able to keep the tears out of my voice. He left without another word and I just stood there, frozen on my spot, completely befuddled.

At the office, Leonid and Marshall are trying to cheer Weiss up, but it doesn't seem to be working very well. In fact, I guess Weiss is starting to depress Leonid and Marshall. My whole team is a wreck and I am miserable. I don't remember having such a bad day since before Vaughn and Weiss came to Rome. Soon my sadness turns into irritation and anger. I am curt with Leonid for no reason and even Marshall gets a glare I immediately scold myself for.

Vaughn throws his mission report on my desk and when I raise my eyes to him in quite a shock I meet an icy cold green glance. It makes me feel like dying. I take a deep breath and don't say a thing. Weiss is watching the unfolding scene and as I notice that I turn my frustration against him.

"Is there something you want, Fred?" I ask, sounding harsh.

"No, no. Sorry." he stammers.

"Great. Then mind your own business, will you?" He is shocked and I regret my words as soon as they leave my mouth. I have been cold and distant to my friends on occasion on behalf of my cover; I led them to believe that I was Julia, the terrorist; but I have never been mean to them like this. Remorse washes through me and I feel sick to my stomach. It seems that everything is crumbling down around me.

I call a briefing, figuring that at least we'll be busy and it might take our minds away from our sorrow and our frustration. Cole revealed to me what the Covenant knows about Rambaldi's Eternal Life Elixir and its secret ingredients, so I can discuss the subject with the guys. Plus, we're still supposedly trying to decipher the Loom's message and I think I should let Marshall taste his own poison, having to take his silly joke seriously.

We gather in the briefing room and everyone looks devastated. I tell them about the search for the ingredients of the formula (letting out the detail that one of them is my own blood, of course) but no one seems to care. Not even Marshall, who is usually interested in such things, shows any enthusiasm. Then, when I explain what it was exactly that we got in Copenhagen, Vaughn can't hold himself together anymore.

"So we blew up that building and those people died because of some long ago dried fluid inside of an inkwell…" he says dejectedly and now I'm really worried. He seems to be one step away from blowing his cover, which will be really bad with all the surveillance cameras in this room.

I look at him but I don't know what to say: I can't openly sympathize with him, of course, but I can't find it in me to scold him for not valuing a Rambaldi artifact over human lives (as Julia certainly would) either. It's Weiss – showing great self control and amazing improvisation skills – who saves the situation with a very convincing impersonation of a Rambaldi enthusiast.

"Oh, come on. It's not _any_ fluid. It can be used to create an elixir which enables people to live forever!" he says sounding impressed.

"That's right." Marshall echoes "It's some great stuff, guys. Those people died for a fair cause."

The first thought that crosses my mind after hearing this is that Marshall has spent way too much time around Sloane; the second one, the good one, is that he and Weiss are great agents and great friends. When Vaughn lost it for a moment, they overcame their own depressive state of mind, their own weakness, and came to his rescue. This, right here, is what working as a team means. After a long time, I watch it again, and I miss being part of it terribly. I miss the old days of SD-6 and the counter-missions Vaughn designed for me. I miss having his voice in my ear while I executed operations. I miss going home and having him tell me he was glad I was safe and proud of my job.

Suddenly I realize how lonely I have been, not so much in my private life – which might be full of lies and deceit, but does make me truly happy most of the time – but mostly at work. Here I have no one: Leonid works with me, but I can't say he's my ally; Hannah is my back-up and my friend, but not my partner; Kendall is what a handler should be – he gives me the plan and even shows me some sympathy on occasion, but he is not… well, Vaughn – who thinks I am the enemy, now, as do Marshall and Weiss. The conclusion is simple and dreadful: to the bottom line, I am alone in all this.

Realization hits me hard, even more when I can only expect that things will get worse: when we finally take the Covenant down, Vaughn, Weiss and Marshall will celebrate it together; I will have no one to hug. The whole scene plays in my mind: at first they'll be shocked that no one arrests me – the terrorist, the assassin, the enemy of state; the brainwashed former CIA agent in need of psychiatric treatment, in best case scenario – then they'll figure it out, or someone will tell them: that I am a double agent, that I am CIA. And they'll look at me that same way Dixon did after the raid of SD-6. Only this time it'll be much worse: their sense of betrayal will be much deeper, my own guilt will be far much heavier. They might never forgive me for this and I'm not sure I will forgive myself either.

"Julia?" Marshall's voice shakes me out of my daze. He sounds concerned. My face must have been showing my inner demons.

"Yes?" my voice is hoarse.

"Julia, are you okay?" Weiss, who sits by my side, touches my arm lightly and I am grateful for this small gesture, more than he will ever know. I've been a bitch to everyone today but still he is being friendly.

"Yes. I… I have a headache, that's all." I try to sound convincing.

"Maybe you should go home. I can take you." Vaughn offers. He is not the loving husband yet but at least he sounds like he cares.

"No, I'm fine. Let's keep going. Where were we?"

"We were talking about the Inkwell." Leonid helps.

"Right. The ink is in our lab for analysis and –" Weiss cuts me.

"Julia, are you sure you're okay? You should get some rest." he insists.

"Yes, you really should." Marshall adds.

"Thank you, guys, but I'm fine, really." I try to sound a little annoyed, on purpose this once, because the truth is that their concern moves me more than I can handle right now. "Let's go back to business."

"Julia…" Weiss starts again and I send him a fake impatient glare, which doesn't stop him, though. "Just listen for a second, okay?"

I nod.

"Clearly you are not having a good day. You're angry and tired and you seem to be really frustrated about something."

I open my mouth but I have no idea what to say. He's right.

"Hey, you don't need to explain anything. It's okay. Just know that you can count on us… if there's something we can do."

I'm fighting back tears. How can he be such a good friend? How can he read me so well through my cover?

"Thanks, Fred." I say truthfully. I wish I could give him some "sugar", like he used to say. I guess he understands, though.

"You know, I think I speak for everyone in this team when I tell you: you are a great agent and the best boss. It's an honor and a privilege to work with you."

I simply gap at him. He is serious; he means what he says. Marshall nods his head in agreement. Vaughn has a proud smile on his face, one I haven't seen in a long time. Leonid winks at me.

That's it; I have to say something.

"You know, guys, I really enjoy working with you. And we might have a bad day once in a while, but I think we are great together." I tell them.

Weiss stands up, pulls me up from my seat and envelops me in big bear hug. And I realize that he might not know the whole truth about me yet, but it's just a question of time until he figures it out.

And I am afraid.

But I'm also excited.


	33. Chapter 32

**Chapter thirty two**

It's the small things that matter, people say, and I agree. Passion expresses itself in grand gestures; love settles its home in the little details of day-to-day life. My relationship with Vaughn is based on them. I don't tell him the truth about me, but I know exactly how he likes his coffee and how he wears his tie; he doesn't promise me a lifetime of happiness, but he always knows when I'm cold or hungry or tired or sad; I'm not the heroine who saves his life in dangerous missions around the globe anymore, but I carefully fold his clothes and set them neatly in his suitcase when he goes away; he leaves me once a month to see his fiancée, but every single time he brings me back a beautiful warm shawl as a gift; I lie to him, but I'm loyal to our history together; he won't leave Lauren for me, but he lets me be part of his life every day; we don't say 'I love you' to each other, but the life we lead together is a love story.

Lauren forgot the anniversary of Vaughn's father's death. It was yesterday. Vaughn was in LA and I was worried about him all day long, pacing around the house, driving Hannah crazy. I know how difficult this day is for him, how much it still affects him, and it was killing me that I couldn't be there for him in anyway. I stayed up late waiting, and as soon as I heard him coming in I raced down the stairs. When I reached the foyer he looked at me seeming surprised. I simply pulled him into a hug. He let out a deep sigh and buried his face into my neck. I held him tightly, rubbing the short hair on the base of his neck. I was so grateful for still being able to comfort him somehow… Finally I lifted his head making him look at me. He gave me a tired smile and I could see the little boy in him, the sad little boy who missed his daddy. I kissed his forehead softly, praying that I could take away his pain. We said nothing; it didn't matter. He didn't need to know why I was acting like that; he needed me and I was there for him. It was all.

This morning I overheard Weiss asking him how was LA. He said Lauren hadn't remembered the anniversary. Weiss was shocked, but Vaughn simply said that she had a lot on her mind and that it didn't matter. For the first time I felt that I really hate that woman: she doesn't know Vaughn; she doesn't love him; she doesn't deserve him; she left him alone when he needed her the most. And this I cannot forgive, because even though now he doesn't seem to be the same person he was years ago, I know that he still is the most caring, attentive and noble – the best man I've ever met.

He got lost after I went away; he let his pain consume him. He was angry and afraid. He closed himself to love – to me. Sometimes I think he chose Lauren because she is nothing like I was. He is not at risk with her: she won't make him love her like he loved me; he won't wish to devote his life to her like he did to me. With her he is safe. She will never mean enough to him to hurt him like I could, like I did – even if I didn't intend to – like I will, when the truth reveals itself. I understand his attitude, even his choice; it makes me sad, of course; it kills me a little bit every day, but I can't say that I don't understand it. I want him to be happy, though. And there is no way Lauren Reed will make him happy. She doesn't get the first thing about him; she doesn't know how to take care of him, nor she wants to; she is a selfish self-centered bitch.

The most rational part of me knows that I am overreacting, that I have nothing to do with Vaughn's life with Lauren, with the dynamics of their relationship, but still I am furious. I want to beat that woman's head to a wall, to shake her really hard, to yell at her. I know, however, that all this anger towards her is simply an expression of my own frustration – for not being able to keep Vaughn from hurting and from missing his father so terribly; and for not being the one he ran to in the first place – as selfish as it sounds, I have to admit that the feeling is real. I am jealous. I wanted Vaughn to be all mine – with his pain, with his love, with his whole life.

……………………………………………..

He is in LA for the second time this month. Apparently Sloane has some information on Cole, and Lambert requested Vaughn to debrief him. That's what Kendall told me and he had to hear all my protests concerning this stupid decision of letting Sloane know about the CIA operation within the Covenant. I don't understand it and I certainly don't approve it: I don't think it's safe or wise and I'm worried sick about Vaughn. But I have to admit that most of all I hate the idea that once more, in less than three weeks, my husband is spending the weekend with _her_ and not with me.

To make things worse, the weather is awful today. It's the end of spring, but it's raining and it's chilly, so I have to stay inside – and alone: Hannah left early to go to a meeting with Kendall; apparently they're revising security protocols and she told me not to expect her back soon. As scary as it sounds, this is not the first time that it occurs to me that Hannah and Kendall might be "together".

The house is silent, way too silent, and I don't know what to do with myself. I try to work on some reports, to read a book, to watch a DVD, but I don't seem to be able to focus on anything. Incoherent crazy thoughts cross my mind: 'maybe we should get a dog; dogs are good company'; 'he asked about my pets, he wanted to know about every pet I ever had'; 'Dad never liked dogs'; 'Vincent, the old cat, slept on the desk in his study; I wasn't allowed inside that room, but the cat…'; 'should I get Vaughn a cat?'; 'no, he is a dog person'; 'I was never properly introduced to Donovan'; 'is Lauren taking care of Donovan while Vaughn is away?' – I wince at this idea; 'Donovan seemed to be a smart dog; I'm sure he doesn't like her; he must bite her once a day' – I laugh out loud at this pathetic try to comfort myself, but my laughter is not spontaneous or truthful; it's one more scene I play in this tragicomic drama that my life has become – except this time I don't even have a public. I'm all alone in my perfect pretty home; in my empty little life. And now I'm jealous because of a bulldog. That's what missing Vaughn does to me.

It's a little past noon when Weiss shows up. He brings beer and sandwiches from my favorite deli. I beam at him. Thank God for Weiss! He tells me he was feeling lonely on this gloomy Sunday and thought I might have been too; if he was bothering me I could simply kick him out the door, but he had decided it was worth taking a risk. I assure him that I'm glad he came and he gives me a hug.

"You're one of my best friends, you know?" I tell him. I need to. I lost too many people that I loved without telling them how much they meant to me; and it haunts me. I want Weiss to know.

He looks at me with his ever kind eyes and squeezes my shoulder lightly.

"Right back at you, girl." he says and once more I realize what a great person he is. Weiss watches the world from the bright side. As messed up, as dark things may be, he always finds a light way to deal with them; he takes the drama away and makes everything seem easier and clearer. This is a remarkable quality to have in the world we live.

I give him a dimpled smile, wishing I could tell him how grateful I am for having him around.

"So, shall we eat?" I ask.

"Yes, sure." he says cheerfully.

The dinning room seems a little bit too fancy for our informal lunch, so we settle for the kitchen. He tells me about the bar he went to last night and how unfortunate it is that the ladies hadn't quite found out his charms yet. I assure him it's their loss and we laugh.

"Will you be giving these silly girls another chance tonight?" I ask him.

"No, I'm actually going bowling tonight, with Leonid – and Frank." he adds making a face.

"Oh really?" I chuckle "I didn't know Frank was into bowling. Is he any good?"

"Are you kidding? I'm pretty sure he is going to be a disaster. He heard Leonid and I making plans and invited himself." He shakes his head.

"Oh…"

"Yeah… I tried to say no, but he insisted. He played the 'in high school I was never invited to the cool parties' card, you know?"

"I see. But it will be fun." I try.

"Yeah, sure. We'll be the joke of the alley." he pauses and then smiles "Who cares? I like Frank."

"I know you do." I say. 'Friendship, your name is Eric Weiss' I think to myself. And suddenly I feel very sad, because Weiss won't always be my friend.

He notices the sudden change in my mood and stares at me.

"Julia? Is something wrong?" he sounds concerned.

"No; absolutely not." I try to act nonchalantly.

"Are you sure?" he insists, and something about his glance makes me nervous.

"Yes." I'm on the verge of tears. My life is an emotional rollercoaster and sometimes I just can't handle it.

Weiss lowers his eyes for a moment, as if pondering on something.

"I meant what I said." he says slowly looking up at me again in a penetrating, unsettling way. "I am your friend. You can count on me."

"I know." I smile but then I have to look away.

"Hey" he makes me look at him again "I'm on your side. You can talk to me. Whatever it is, I'll understand. " He squeezes my hand.

He knows; I'm sure that he knows. I gave him too many signs; I slipped way too many times when he was around. This is it: I've been made. I don't know what to do. I don't even know how I feel. I'm relieved and I'm terrified; I'll have my friend back; I'll lose everything I have. But I can't help it.

"Weiss…" I sob.

He doesn't say anything; he doesn't even move; and I simply wait – and try to catch the slightest alteration in his expression.

One second lasts an eternity, but then light wrinkles show up on the corner of his eyes and his lips curve in the beginning of a smile. He pulls me in a hug and I can't hold it anymore. I lay my head on his shoulder and let the tears fall. I am so glad that he doesn't hate me.

"God, I missed you so much, Syd." he says and for a moment life seems simple.

"I'm sorry, Eric. I am so sorry for lying to you… and I missed you too." I tell him truthfully.

"Don't be sorry. I'm sure you have your reasons for not telling the truth. We'll figure things out, okay?" he promises.

We don't have a chance to say anything else, though, because Vaughn's voice reaches us, coming from the dinning room, asking if there's someone home.

I quickly step away from Weiss.

"Please don't say anything." I mouth to him, praying that he will understand, or at least respect my wish.

He nods and I give him a nervous smile while trying to wipe my tears away.

"Kitchen, Chris!" I call out to Vaughn.

"Hi" he says from the doorway and I can tell he is not in his best mood.

"Hey, dude!" Weiss sounds nervous "You're back early."

Vaughn's brow furrows and in spite of my precarious state I find the situation amusing. Weiss is acting as if we were making out or something and my husband walked in us.

I grin at Vaughn and he chuckles. His expression has softened; now he's having fun.

"Fred, you're not having an affair with my wife, are you? he asks.

Weiss gaps at him and Vaughn and I laugh out loud.

Weiss's glance goes from Vaughn to me and he finally rolls his eyes at us both. I love it when he embraces us in this fake resentful joking look of his. It makes me feel that Vaughn and I are partners in crime, together against the world. And I know that's exactly how Weiss thinks of us – or at least how he used to.

"Hell of a way to get home…" Vaughn jokes shaking his head. "Have you at least left me a sandwich?" he asks.

"Actually I have. I only had three." Weiss says "And I'll leave you now. Got a date at the bowling alley" he winks at me "See you tomorrow."

"Have fun tonight." I say, grinning at him.

"I'll try." He kisses me on the cheek and gives me a meaningful smile.

"See you, man." Vaughn pats him on the shoulder, and he is gone.

I make my way to the cupboard to get Vaughn a plate. He is still standing a few feet away from the kitchen table and when I pass by him I give him what was intended to be a quick 'welcome back' kiss. He grabs my arm, though, and makes me stand right in front of him. He stares at me and I can sense desperation in his eyes, as if he fears that I will vanish any minute.

I'm still pretty shaken – I have just blown my cover to Weiss, after all –, but all my thoughts concentrate on Vaughn now. Something must have happened in LA. He looks distressed.

"What? Is something wrong?" I ask him softly. I don't really want an answer; I'm only trying to soothe him with the sound of my voice.

He brings his hand up to my face and strokes my cheek sweetly with his thumb, looking deeply into my eyes. I cover his hand with my own and realize that I'm living one of the most intense moments of my life right in the middle of my kitchen. I lean into his touch and that's when I catch a glimpse of the watch on his wrist. It's his father's watch and it is… working.

A wave of coldness washes through me, and I step out of Vaughn's embrace.

"You got a knew watch." I say, trying to swallow my pain and sound nonchalant. My voice is strained, though, and I'm giving myself away. It's irrational, but for some reason this hurts me more than anything else I've been through.

Vaughn senses my troubled state, but I guess he doesn't think it through or figures out what it means. It's almost as if he was hoping that I'd be hurt and is so relieved that I in fact am hurt that nothing else matters. I don't think he wanted to hurt me, though; I might be delusional, but I think he is looking for some company to mourn for his fixed watch – and for what it means: his heart moving on, his life moving on.

"It's not new." he finally says "This watch belonged to my father. He gave it to me…" He hesitates and I think I hear guilt and a deep sense of loss in his tone. "When he gave it to me he said 'you could set your heart by this watch'. It stopped a couple years ago, the day I met my girlfriend… the one I told you about in Fleury." He looks at me and I nod in acknowledgement. It's all I can do; my voice won't come out. "She was… she was the love of my life." He pauses and the world seems to have stopped.

I should probably fake some deep sense of offense (after all, he's telling me that some "other woman" was the love of his life), but I don't even try.

"I never wanted to fix the watch, not even after she died. I didn't want to go on with my life without her." Tears come to my eyes and I don't stop them. "A couple weeks ago, that weekend I went away, was the anniversary of my father's death. I took the watch with me, but I forgot it at – at a friend's." I know he means Lauren and anger starts to boil inside me. "She got it fixed, thinking it would be something nice to do for me."

I'm fuming now and I want to kill that woman. That watch was sacred. How dared she?

"At first I was furious… actually I was still furious when I started telling you this; but now I realize that she did indeed do me a favor."

"How?" I ask a bit too harshly, not quite able to control myself.

"I needed to understand that I'm ready to start living again, to go on with my life." he says.

As for me, I'm ready to die again, for real, this time. He'll leave me; he'll marry her.

"You made my life worth living again." he says solemnly.

"What?" I breathe. I can't believe what I heard. Did he really say what I think he did?

"I was dead; I was frozen; and you brought me back to life." he says cupping my face in his hands and bringing our foreheads to rest together. I close my eyes and all I can feel is him.

"Please don't leave me. Don't ever leave me." he pleas with me softly, and when I open my eyes again I'm staring at his deep pools of green, full of love and pain.

I kiss him, whispering "Never" against his lips.


	34. Chapter 33

**A/N: **Hey, guys! Sorry it took me a little longer to update; it's been a _very_ busy week.

I just wanted to say that I **loved** your reviews. Thank you, so, so much! I wish I had enough words to tell you how much this means to me. Love you all!

**Chapter thirty three**

It's been a month since Weiss found out the truth, but we still haven't had a chance to talk in private. Today, though, Vaughn is on a surveillance mission, so I ask him to come to the villa. We sit at the library and I don't know where to begin. There's so much to say; there's so much I need to ask him…

"Are you sure we can talk in here?" he asks me quietly.

"We have bug killers and all kinds of counter-measures." I assure him. "Hannah is a security expert."

"What?! Hannah is…"

"CIA, yes." I chuckle.

"Wow!" Somehow he is more surprised with the revelation of Hannah's true status than he was with my own.

"Yeah. She is a great friend too. She helps me a lot." I say, my expression serious.

"Syd, what happened?" he asks, turning back serious too.

I take a deep breath; it still hurts to talk about some things, but Weiss deserves to know, so I go back to the beginning.

"That night, Vaughn took me home after we came back from Mexico City. Francie was there; except she wasn't Francie; she was Allison Doren. Will had figured it out and had left me a voice mail before she stabbed him and laid him in the bathtub. I found him lying there, just like Danny." I cringe and Weiss squeezes my hand. "I fought her; I shot her three times; and then I collapsed on the floor of my bedroom. I was hurt and weak; I was sure that Francie – the real Francie – was dead; I feared that Will was too. As my eyes closed, though, my only coherent thought was that Vaughn would be there soon and everything would be okay."

A tear escapes my eye and Weiss lets out an "Oh God… Why didn't we get there sooner?"

"They had it all planned…" I tell him, because it's not his fault or Vaughn's or the CIA. Nobody could have saved me then. "I don't remember that night. It's the only gap I have in my memory. But Leonid told me what happened."

"Leonid?"

"He was there. He was one of the agents who took me from the house and set the fires."

Weiss rises from the couch in a sudden move and paces the room; he's clearly upset. Leonid has become a true friend to him.

"Leonid is a good person, Eric. He is my friend too." he turns back to me with a quizzical glance.

"How come?"

"He helped me. After they took me and Allison from the house, they extracted DNA from my teeth, planted it in Francie's corpse and set the house on fire."

"Wait. Wasn't Allison dead? Why did they take her from the house?"

"She was almost dead; she is actually alive. And she is Covenant; has always been. She was double-crossing Sloane."

"No way!"

"I know… Anyway, apparently they treated her with some medicine invented by Rambaldi and she recovered." Weiss rolls his eyes at the mention of the name and I go on. "I woke up in a cell. They kept me there for months. They starved me, and tortured me; and it was so cold…" I try to be strong, but my voice is faltering and Weiss sits down beside me again and holds my hands. I give him a weak smile. "And then they started the brainwashing process. They used all kinds of crazy techniques. Soon, though, I realized that it wasn't working; but I also realized that simply fighting it wouldn't do me any good." Weiss nods his head.

"So you pretended to become Julia Thorne." he says. I nod.

"She isn't _that_ bad, is she?" I chuckle "I mean, she used to kill people for a living and she is a terrorist, but apart from these tiny little details, she's quite a nice person, don't you think?"

"Well, I happen to like her a lot, actually. She is one of my best friends." We share a smile.

"You have no idea how much you've helped me since you got here…" I tell him.

"It's been hard. The day I saw you for the first time… it was impossible. And I can't even imagine what it was like for you." he shakes his head.

"I wish I could have told you everything; but Kendall would have like … killed me."

"Wait! Kendall? What does Kendall have to do with it?"

"He… uh… Kendall is… Kendall is my… handler." I stammer.

"Oh my God!" Weiss stands up again. "You were tortured, brainwashed and then you got Kendall as a handler?! You poor little thing!"

"Like Lambert is much better…" I point out and Weiss's face falls.

"I don't want to talk about it." He cringes. Lambert must be worse than I thought.

"Back to the story, then." I resume "I pretended that the brainwashing process was working and everyone believed me, except Leonid. I noticed that and was terrified, but much to my surprise he came to me and offered to help. He said he wanted to defect."

"And you believed him?"

"I didn't have much of an option. And he was helpful. He helped me convince them that I was ready to go on missions and he arranged a way for me to contact the CIA."

"And…"

"And when I called, Kendall picked the phone." I explain.

"I should start answering the phone more often…" he muses.

"I met Kendall in a safe house in Tuscany and told him everything. I wanted to go home, but he ordered me to stay put and maintain cover."

"And you didn't argue?!"

"Of course I did. But he said that if I went back I'd be putting the lives of the people I cared about at risk. And he was pretty sure the Covenant would kill me."

"But what about your father? He would have found a way to deal with that. He…"

"Was already in jail." I explain and Weiss seems dejected. "Plus, the Covenant seemed to be a huge problem. And Kendall appealed to my sense of duty."

"Bastard!"

"No, he was right. I couldn't have gone back." I try to soothe him.

"He made you feel you had no one left! It was not true!" he argues.

"It was at that point, Eric. And it wasn't anyone's fault."

"Oh, Syd, I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry about everything." he says, lowering his eyes and staring at the ground.

"Me too." I say softly.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for." He looks up at me again.

"Are you kidding me?" Now it's my turn to pace the room. "I've been lying to you, to Vaughn, all this time." My voice drifts off and he is silent for a moment.

"Yeah, about Vaughn…" he finally takes a chance.

"What about Vaughn?" Suddenly I feel the need to act defensively.

"Well, you couldn't tell him the truth because of Kendall and the mission and everyone's safety, I get it. But then he… then you started dating and… Didn't you think of… I mean, shouldn't you have…"

"I know I am his mission, Eric. I know he is with me to get intel." I blurt out. "I knew from the very beginning. Kendall told me."

He closes his eyes and I'm pretty sure he wishes he could disappear right now.

"I also know about Lauren Reed, if you're wondering." I add.

"Syd…"

"Kendall thought it was a mistake to make Vaughn marry a Covenant agent. He didn't think it was safe or smart and it could risk the whole operation." I start explaining.

"So he ordered you to marry Vaughn?!" He sounds astonished and I don't get it.

"So what?! Lambert ordered Vaughn to marry me, didn't he?"

"Yes, but…"

"What?" I'm angry now. "_I _wouldn't submit myself to such a mission?"

"Why did you?"

"Why did Vaughn?"

"Well, that's a little tricky."

"Tricky?"

"I didn't get it at first myself. I couldn't believe or accept that he had agreed to…"

"Use me." I say for him.

"Yeah." Weiss admits "When I questioned him about it he told me you were gone; I mean, Sydney was gone; and Julia… Julia meant nothing to him. So, as he saw it, he wasn't doing anything against you – against Sydney, I mean."

"He uses that speech a lot." I say, feeling hurt. Weiss glances at me curiously.

"I overheard you two talking about me a couple times." I admit.

"Oh…"

"Thank you, by the way. You always defend me." I smile. He smiles back and I can tell he is relieved.

"I never believed Vaughn; not really." Weiss goes on "I thought he was only trying to convince himself that he could move on from you. I think he was too hurt and too afraid. He had lost you once and it almost killed him. He didn't know how to deal with your coming back… as Julia Thorne. So if he could… use you… taint your relationship by making it a mission… I don't know… I guess he thought it might give him some closure. It might make his feelings for you go away."

"He looked at me with so much despise, sometimes…" I say. And it still hurts me to remember that.

"He was completely lost and he screwed up, that's the truth." Weiss says. "But you know what? He did make a move on you because he was ordered too; and the mission was the reason he gave himself and me and Lauren and the world for doing it; but I don't think this was ever the truth."

"You don't?"

"Syd, why did you let Vaughn get close to you? Why did you agree to marry him?"

"I told you. Kendall ordered me to." I say softly.

"And you simply followed his orders?" Weiss clearly doesn't buy it – but then, who would? "Come on… Why did you really marry Vaughn?" he tries again and this time I say the truth.

"Because I love him; because I wanted to be with him, for as long as I could be and how ever I could be."

Weiss nods his head. There's a hint of a smile on his face.

"Well, I'm pretty sure those were Vaughn's reasons as well, though he wouldn't admit it even to himself."

"But he proposed to Lauren days before our wedding…" I say and I'm angry at myself because I can't keep the tears away from my voice.

"God, Kendall is very keen on gossip, isn't he?" Weiss sounds indignant.

"What? Did you want him not to tell me?" I glare at him.

"Syd, Lauren was furious about your wedding. She was giving Vaughn a really hard time."

"So he proposed to her?!!! Oh, come on, Eric! Don't try to make excuses for him."

"That's not what I'm doing. But he was terrified. I guess it was getting harder and harder for him to deny that he was in love with you, that he was thrilled about the wedding… I think Lauren was his last defense, his last resource."

"Against me." I twist the knife.

"Against himself." Weiss corrects me.

"So he asked Lauren to marry him to try and convince himself that our marriage wouldn't be real…"

"Yeah." He frowns. "That sounds really stupid, doesn't it? Horrible plan."

"Why do you say that?" As preposterous as it is, there is some logic to Vaughn's actions; even I can see it. "It makes sense in a way. It could work."

"Yeah, it worked _really_ well…" Weiss teases.

"It didn't?" I fight to keep a straight face.

"You know very well that it didn't, Syd. You made it impossible for Vaughn to deal with your relationship like it was a pretense. And it was amazing how you did it, because you didn't try to show him that you were still Sydney, you didn't go against your orders, you never blew your cover; you made him fall in love with Julia. And he did fall for her; really hard."

"Really?" I smile broadly now.

"Can't you see it?" he smiles.

"I'm scared to believe that. I mean, he is still with Lauren." I reason

"He's scared too, I guess. I mean, he is Vaughn, the good guy, and he is in love with the enemy. Lauren is a contrivance. But I'm pretty sure that she means absolutely nothing to him; that she never did. It's always been about you."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that she is the one being used in all this. She is the one being deceived. You… you're Vaughn's wife. You're the woman he loves. You've always been." He says.

"Well, I'm not going to feel sorry for her." I snap.

"No, that's not what I'm saying! Lauren is… selfish, snobbish, obnoxious, boring. Oh, I hate that woman! She deserves to be used and deceived." he grunts.

"Okay..." I didn't expect that reaction.

"What? You don't know her. She is horrible. She is full of herself; she walks around thinking that she is better than everyone and making it clear. And she doesn't like me. She thinks I'm silly and… dumb." He is angry, but he also sounds hurt.

"She's stupid, then. Let's add that to the list." I say very seriously.

Weiss looks at me with a huge grin.

"You know, Syd? I love you!" He hugs me.

"Oh, I love you too, Eric." I laugh.

"He can't stand her anymore." he adds after a short moment of silence.

"Well, she is awful… She forgot his father's death anniversary!" Weiss starts to nod but then he realizes what it means that I know this.

"You certainly do a lot of eavesdropping, don't you?" he scolds me, but I don't really care.

"And then she got his watch fixed!" I add, angry.

"Yeah. About that… Vaughn was pissed and now you are too. What's with the watch?"

"It's something ours."

"Yeah, I figured it must be. Anyway, I don't think Vaughn even wants to see her again. In fact, these last months he's only been going to LA because of work; and while there he avoids her like the plague. Actually I think Lauren is the only one who hasn't realized that they're over yet." he says.

"I want to believe this so badly…"

"Syd, listen to me: he chose you." Weiss smiles reassuringly.

"Over the selfish, snobbish, obnoxious, boring witch. Yay me!" I roll my eyes and he chuckles.

"Well, he does think you're a terrorist." He ponders.

"True… oh God…"

"But I think it doesn't matter that much to him anymore." he says quickly and I grin.

"But will he forgive me for lying to him all this time?" I ask. I need to know.

"Trust me: he loves you; now even more than he already did before all this mess, which I didn't think possible. And I don't think he could live without you. I don't think he would want to."

"But what if he doesn't understand what I did? What if he can't get past all this?"

"Okay, let's see if I got it right. First: you lied because you were ordered to. Second: you married him because you loved him, even though you knew he was in another "relationship";" – he signs the quotation marks with his fingers and makes a face, to what I chuckle. "Third: you continued to lie because somehow you thought it was the only way you could have him. Right?"

I nod.

"Syd, how on earth could he not understand this? Actually, he should kneel down to the ground, beg for your forgiveness and worship you."

I laugh at the image although I'm not so sure that Vaughn will react as well as Weiss expects him to. Either way, though, I think this was the best conversation I've ever in a very long time.


	35. Chapter 34

**A/N: **Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews; you made my holiday! I wish you all a happy Easter!

**Chapter thirty four**

I made Weiss promise that he wouldn't say anything to Vaughn. In spite of his optimism, I know that there is not a chance that Vaughn will forgive me unless I tell him the truth myself, and I'm still building up the courage to do it. Right now, though, I have another matter at hand. Kendall called me this morning sounding quite anxious and told me we needed to meet immediatelly. Now I'm pacing the old church's attic, waiting for him.

"Hello, Sydney." he greets me. "I have good news."

"Really? That's a first." I say sarcastically, hating how skeptical this job has made me.

"Your father is being released from federal prison this afternoon." he announces.

"What?! How come?" This is good news, indeed!

"Robert Lindsey, the NSC director responsible for putting him in custody in the first place, is under investigation. He is suspect of fraud and conspiracy against the US Government." Kendall explains.

"Really? I mean, not that I like the guy, but do you think he is a traitor?" This just seems… convenient, and I learned to suspect convenient.

"Well, if you're wondering whether this is a set up, you might want to know that it was Sloane who made the first accusations." Kendall tells me.

"It gets weirder and weirder." I cringe.

"He could be trying to help your father." he suggests.

"Sloane?"

"They've been friends for years…" he argues.

I glare at him.

"Oh, come on, Sydney, you know your father doesn't let his life be guided by a narrow sense of morality, nor does he pick his friends among the boyscouts." Kendall ponders. "He would use Sloane's help if it was for a greater good."

"I know. That's not what I'm questioning. I just can't believe that Sloane would help my father simply out of friendship – or for a greater good; he must want something in return."

"Well, you can find out yourself. You'll be meeting with them both and your mother tomorrow in LA." he says as if it was nothing.

"Have you lost your mind?!" I almost shout.

"No. And keep your voice down. It's a good opportunity to learn more about the Rambaldi Elixir and the Covenant. I think Sloane is withholding information from the CIA. You and your parents might be able to get something useful from him. And I thought you'd be thrilled about seeing your dad again after so long." he adds.

"I am; it's just… You didn't let me tell Vaughn or my friends the truth and now Sloane will know. Isn't it dangerous?"

"It is dangerous, but it could mean a great deal for our operation. If I'm right about Sloane, for the first time we will be ahead of the Covenant. I think it's worth the risk. And Jack is back. You'll be safe." he assures me.

"Okay." I sigh. "And you're right: it will be great to see my dad. When do I leave?"

"Tonight. There'll be a cargo jet waiting at the airfield. Here's all you'll need." He hands me an envelope.

"No alias?"

"No alias. Good luck."

"Kendall?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Tell Jack I said hi."

…………………………………………….

Back at the Covenant headquarters, I find Cole waiting for me in my office, talking to Vaughn and Weiss.

"Where have you been? We have great news!" He sounds truly happy; it's scary.

"Good. What is it?" I ask, avoiding his question.

"We located another ingredient to the Rambaldi Elixir." he announces.

"Really? What?"

"A special clay found in Iceland. I want you and Chris to go get it. You leave in two hours."

"Well, I'll have to send Fred with Chris. I'm meeting a contact tomorrow in Turkey." I say. "Apparently he has information about the Elixir. It's a great opportunity; I don't want to miss it."

"You hadn't said anything about this." Vaughn says, sounding disappointed, almost hurt.

"I just heard from my contact." I explain to him briefly, turning back to Cole. "But don't worry, Cole; you'll have the clay and some new intel by Monday."

"Awesome!"

"Chris…" I start after Cole leaves.

"Why can't you send someone else to meet with this source?" he asks me.

"Because he is my contact. He'll only talk to me." He looks away. "Hey, it's just a weekend. And you'll have fun with Fred." I try.

"Okay. When do you leave?" he is angry and I actually love it.

"Tonight." I say.

"Great. Have fun. I have to go pack." He leaves in a hurry, without even looking back.

I glance at Weiss. He is chuckling.

…………………………………………………

I arrive in LA Saturday morning. It's a beautiful summer day and I'm glad to be back to my hometown, infinitely more than the last time I was here. One of Kendall's associates takes me from the private airfield to a safe house outside town. I find Mom waiting for me in the living room.

"Hi, sweetheart!" she coos happily, hugging me. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Mom."

"Let me look at you." she smiles and runs her hands down my arms "You seem happy. How is everything?"

"Pretty good, actually, considering the situation." I answer.

"Good. Your dad is in the bedroom. I didn't tell him that you were coming or even that you were working for the CIA. Thought we could surprise him." She sounds like a wife planning a party to her husband.

"Okay... I hope he doesn't think I'm here sent by the Covenant to kill him."

"Don't be silly. You know he will figure everything out in a split of a second." She smiles. "He'll be thrilled to see you!"

I knock at the bedroom's door. My hand is shaking and I am actually nervous. For a long time, I thought my dad was the only person I had left, and the hope of seeing him again was the only thing keeping me going.

"Come in." he says, probably thinking it's Mom.

I open the door slowly. He is on the opposite side of the room, putting his jacket on. His back is to the door, but I'm sure he knows it's me before turning around. I don't think I've ever seen him this emotional. He looks at me as if I am the most precious thing and tears immediately come to my eyes.

"Sweetheart." he says slowly, in a deep voice. It's not a simple greeting; it's a statement: of affection, of pride, of joy, of relief.

"Dad!" I coo and the first tear falls. He crosses the distance between us and pulls me into a hug, sighing in relief. It's like he can breathe again after the longest time.

"You didn't say anything…" he says to Mom, who watches us from the doorframe.

"I thought you should see by yourself what an amazing daughter we have." She explains and he nods, making me stand in front of him so he can look at me.

"Sweetheart, you look so beautiful!" he says and I have to bite my lip not to sob, because this compliment means the world. Dad is not welcoming back a missing agent; right now, I'm just his little girl.

"I missed you so much, Dad. And I'm so sorry." I cry.

"Why are you sorry, Sydney?"

"Because I let you think I was dead; because you were in jail; because I was so angry at you when I first found out about Project Christmas; because..."

"Sydney" he cuts me "none of this is your fault. And what about Project Christmas?"

"The failsafe worked" Mom explains to him. "They couldn't brainwash her."

"So you pretended to be Julia Thorne all this time." He doesn't have to ask; he just knows.

"Yes. I am a double agent."

"I see. You're quite an expert on it, aren't you?" he smiles "Who knows about it?"

"It used to be just Kendall, Mom and Leonid Lisenker, a defector I handle. Now Weiss does too." I say.

"Kendall?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"It was him I contacted in the first place. You were already in custody. He is my handler."

"Sorry about that." He grins and I chuckle. "But why did Agent Weiss become involved?"

"He is infiltrating the Covenant, too. So is Marshall… and Vaughn. They are the CIA oficial agents encharged of the operation. They were not supposed to know the truth about me. I pretend to be Julia Thorne around them too, but I told Weiss everything last week."

"But why did you tell Weiss and not Vaughn?" Dad asks.

I don't answer at first and Mom takes a deep breath; here we go.

"I am married to Vaughn, Dad" I start. He clenches his jaw. "as Julia." I finish.

"What do you mean?" he asks very, very slowly. That infamous icy note is noticeable in his voice.

Mom hides her face in her hands.

"Vaughn was ordered to marry Julia to gather intel from her, and I played along. So we got married, but he thinks I was successfully brainwashed and became an assassin and a terrorist. He married me for the mission." I explain.

"So he is using you! How dares he?! I've always known that stupid boy was not worthy of you!" Dad yells.

"No! Dad, no." I have to make him see this from the other side. "I'm telling you that _I_ have been lying to Vaughn and making him believe that he is married to Julia, who is just my alias. I am following Kendall's orders. I know everything; he is the one blindsided." I realize my mistake as soon as this sentence is out of my mouth.

Mom makes a funny sound and recoils to a corner of the room.

"I see." Dad is livid now and I'm not sure he is breathing. His face is a dark shade of red. "So you're putting your maternal inheritance to good use. Sydney! How could you?! And don't tell me you're doing this for the good of the country. This is no different from being a…"

"Jack!" Mom stops him. "Don't you dare! You're being stupid. Explaining this is difficult for Sydney and she's always been afraid of what you would say about her relationship with Vaughn – now I fully understand why. She is nervous and she is not making herself clear. You could try and help her, instead of making this harder." I hear this and once more I realize that my mom and dad are a match made in heaven, in spite of everything. Who else would confront Jack Bristow like that?

"You think this is great, don't you, Irina? Like mother, like daughter. You transformed her into you. How could you let this happen, Sydney?" He sounds disappointed and hurt, and it hurts me.

"Dad, please. I love Vaughn. I couldn't live without him. He was there, right beside me; I had a chance to be with him and I took it. I didn't care that it wasn't real; I just needed to be with him. Our marriage is real to me, it's the most real thing in my life." I sob and Dad seems to calm down.

"But it's not real for him, is it?" he glances at me with a sad expression in his eyes.

"I don't know. In the beginning he fought it hard. He had a girlfriend back here and he got engaged to her…"

"What?!" he cuts me, but I don't let him.

"Dad, please, let me finish first, okay?" He nods. "In the beginning he made an effort not to get too involved, but now… now…"

"Now what, Sydney?" Mom asks softly, with a hint of a smile.

"I think he loves me; I mean, I think he loves his wife, he loves who I am now, even if he thinks I became Julia. We do everything together; we cook meals, and read to each other, and talk, and laugh all the time; we play the piano, and dance in our living room late nights, and work together in our rose garden; we babysit Marshall's son, and fight over curtains, and have friends over for dinner; we had the most beautiful wedding, and he gave me his grandmother's engagement ring, and we decorated our villa together – it's the most amazing place. I wake up everyday to his eyes and to his smile and I am so happy… I love him, Dad, I love him so much. I'm sorry, but I love him." Tears run down my face and I can't stop them.

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart. You do love him." Dad says after a short silence.

"And Sydney" Mom adds "he loves you too."

"How can you know that?" I ask her.

"The marriage you described" Dad answers first "– no one can fake that; and it's not half real; it is real."

"We lived through it, Sydney." Mom says "we know what we are talking about. We know precisely when a relationship becomes real, even if it was supposed to be just a pretense all the way." She walks up to Dad and hugs him, nesting her head on his chest. He puts an arm around her back. They both smile at me.

"I'm sorry I was so harsh at you, Sydney." Dad says. "Everything will work out, you'll see."

"Do you really think so?" I ask.

"Yes. I really do." He answers. "Now come here, sweetheart."

It's our first family hug in almost thirty years. I love it.

……………………………………………..

Sloane arrives early in the afternoon and no one is very pleased to see him. As Mom explains, he contacted her and offered to help Dad by revealing Robert Lindseys's involvement with illegal activities. She accepted it, but both she and Dad are suspicious of Sloane's willingness to help, figuring there must be something behind it.

Dad instructs me to speak as least as possible, so I mostly watch the interaction, and Mom sits close to me in the couch, putting on her best – or worst – Derevko expression. I feel quite safe.

Sloane seems truly happy to see me again, which bothers me a little bit, but Dad simply ignores his displays of affection, and makes it very clear to him that he doesn't believe in his "conversion". It's a bit of an awkward situation, and I'd rather be spared from it, but as we move up to a work related discussion, I start to believe that Kendall was right – twice: Sloane is in fact withholding information from the CIA and this meeting should pay off, as he seems to be willing to share everything he knows with us.

He tells Dad about the Elixir. Mom lists the ingredients which Project Black Hole already has – the multi-use solution, the ashes of Petrus Forlani, a man contemporary to Rambaldi, the liquid inside the Howerglass, the fluid from the Inkwell and, of course, a sample of my blood. I add that the Vaughn and Weiss are in Iceland getting the clay as we speak; they should turn it to the CIA pretty soon. It means there is only one ingredient missing: something kept inside an artifact known as The Cube.

"Do you know what it is?" Dad asks Sloane.

"Yes, Jack." he says, nursing his glass of water. "It's a sample of Rambaldi's DNA." Dad rolls his eyes.

"And where can we find the Cube?"

"It's in Algeria. I can give you the exact location."

"Good."

"What are you going to do, Jack, when you have all the ingredients to the Elixir?" Sloane asks.

"This…" Dad stares him down "is none of your business."

"You could use it to take the Covenant down, Sydney." Sloane turns to me.

"How do you suggest we do that?" I ask coldly.

"Well, the Elixir is what Cole, that lunatic, wants the most. You could let him know that one of your sources informed you that Project Black Hole successfully produced a vial of it. Of course he will question this; he believes the Covenant has the cloth produced by the Loom, which points to one of the ingredients, and the fluid from the inkwell. You'll tell him that it seems that you have a mole inside the organization – someone with high level clearance. This should get you access to the Covenant leaders. Now, it's a weak organization. If you take the heads down, the body will crumble. And you can come home." He finishes with a smile.

"Do you know who the Covenant leaders are?" I ask.

"Yes, I do."

"So…" Dad is out of patience.

"Your sister Yelena;" he tells Mom.

"Of course. I should have known." she shakes her head and I'm glad I never met my relatives.

"Alain Christophe, former Alliance;" this is not such a surprise "and someone we're quite fond of, Sydney."

"Who?"

"Mister Sark."

"Oh, not again…" I can't stand Sark.

Mom chuckles. Dad glares at her.

"Wait… So Sark thinks I became Julia…"

"Yes he does."

"But what about Vaughn and Weiss and Marshall? He knows they're CIA."

"Yes, he does; which means their operation has been compromised from the very beginning. If it wasn't for you, Sydney, the CIA would have nothing."

"Oh my God… But why didn't they simply kill Vaughn and Weiss? Why did they accept Marshall to join the team? It doesn't make sense."

"I don't think Sark told his partners about their identity. You see, Sydney, keeping them there, he knows what the CIA knows – or so he thought; of course he didn't count on you. Anyway, he's been using Vaughn, Weiss and Marshall to gather information about the CIA and their effort against the Covenant, and he trusts you to stop them from doing any real damage to the organization." He pauses to drink some water. "Of course he was concerned when Vaughn and you got together, but ended up figuring out that Vaughn had more to lose; Sark didn't think Julia would let her husband steal anything really important from her – and you have to admit that he was right; in terms of an operation, your marriage was a total failure for Vaughn. In other words, Sark thought that Julia would act as another counter-measure against her own husband. In fact, you've been all the protection he needed." He smiles. "It's quite a love story you and Vaughn have going on."

"Enough." Mom says. "We'll discuss your idea and let you know if we need anything else from you. Unecessary to remind you that if anyone learns about Sydney's double agent status, I'll hold you responsible and kill you myself."

"Irina… I love Sydney too." he says.

"Or maybe Jack and I could kill you right now…" she cuts him coldly.

"Fine. It was nice to see you all. Good luck."

"This was helpful, after all." Dad says after Sloane leaves.

"Yes, it was." Mom agrees. "But now it's time for our family dinner. And Sydney, I want to hear everything about that gorgeous villa of yours."


	36. Chapter 35

**Chapter thirty five**

Kendall approved Sloane's plan to take down the Covenant and soon we started preparing things for the operation: evidence I would show Cole that Project Black Hole had all the ingredients for the Rambaldi Elixir; proof that there was a mole inside the Covenant; back up for my meeting with the leaders of the organization; special training to the field agents who would take part in the subsequent raids to every Covenant facility and detailed plans to such raids; technical gear and all other kinds of resources which the mission would require. It will be a huge operation, involving hundreds of agents from the CIA and other intelligence agencies. Kendall estimates two to three months to have everything prepared, which means that by October I should be home again, as he happily announced.

I'm not so sure, though, about the meaning of home anymore. Since I've known about this three-month deadline, I've been wandering around my house, my office and even the streets of Rome saying good bye to the places, the things and the people that make part of my life here. I wish I didn't have to lose them; I don't want to imagine my life without them; and still, it is my job to make sure that I'll leave all this behind, and soon.

Leonid is the first to notice my gloomy mood, and I end up telling him everything at once: the truth about Vaughn, Weiss and Marshall, and the plans to take the Covenant down. As I suspected, he had already figured out the truth about the guys. He asks if I think the operation will go well and my positive answer sounds more like a death sentence.

"You're sad." he notices.

"I'll miss my life here." I explain.

"And your husband." he adds.

"Yes."

"He was your boyfriend, wasn't he? The one you were with before the abduction."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, Sydney. I'm so sorry for what I did to you – and to him. I wish I could go back in time and make things right." he says, sounding very honest.

"Leonid, if _you_ hadn't abducted me, they would have sent somebody else. And I would most probably be dead by now. So stop feeling guilty." I mean what I say.

"I still wish I could do something for you. You know, to try and remedy the damage I caused."

"You've been a good friend to me, and I thank you for that. What I need, no one can give me; no one can bring back what was lost." I say.

"I guess not…" he starts with a gloomy expression, but then his face lights up "…but maybe not everything you think was lost is really lost!" he says almost cheerfully.

"What do you mean?" I ask, curious.

"You'll see; you'll see." he sounds all cryptical.

I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

……………………………………….

Vaughn, Weiss and Marshall don't know about the operation yet; Kendall specifically asked me not to tell Weiss and for once I happily obeyed; everything will be different as soon as they know that we are close to the end, and I want things to be normal, just for a little longer – every single day I have here is a gift now, and I don't want to waste any of them.

I spend all the time I have with Vaughn; I touch him, hug him, kiss him as much as I can; I fight sleep every night just to watch him and hear him breathing beside me. I let my fingertips travel on his face, trying to memorize the curve of his jaw, the form of his mouth, the bump on his nose, the cleft in his chin, the texture of his skin and the slightest wrinkles on his forehead. I let my eyes dive into his until I can see the light marks on his irises and that deep green I love so much is engraved into my memory forever; I run my hands through his hair trying to capture that amazing color between blond and brown that makes me think of golden sand beaches. I try to burn his touch in my skin and his image in my mind, just in case.

I still don't know what I'll do after the take down. Kendall and my parents are pretty sure that I'll go back to LA and to my life there, but I know that that life doesn't exist anymore. I lost all my belongings, everything I had in the fire; I lost my friends; I lost my boyfriend; I lost myself – who I was back then. And what I could get back I'm about to lose once more. I try to be strong, I try to believe that I will be fine, but the truth is I don't think I will. And each passing day I feel that going back to LA will only make things worse. I'm afraid of the memories waiting there for me and of the new things I'll find everywhere, and I don't know what will hurt me the most: what remained or what changed. Most of all, though, it is Vaughn what makes me so anxious. It might be a result of my depressive mood, but what seemed almost possible to me in my most hopeful days – that he would still be with me when this all ended; that he would forgive me and tell me that I am still his wife and that he loves me – now sounds like a complete delusion.

In spite of what Weiss and Kendall and my parents say, I'm actually afraid that one day I'll enter the Joint Task Force, surrounded by people I don't know, feeling lonely and out of place, and find Vaughn there with Lauren. She'll probably hate me and he will be on her side. I'll lose my best friend, my ally, along with my husband. I won't be able to confide in him, to tell him my secrets, because he will have responsibilities to his wife. And I will have to accept that this is not my role anymore – that it never was. If anything happens to him, it will be her job to take care of him, not mine. And maybe sometimes he will do something that shows me that he still loves me, but it won't change anything, it will only make me miss him even more. He will be loyal to her and it will kill me because I'll have to respect that. I'll have to love him from the distance, always from the distance, as I watch our lives being wasted. I don't want this for me. On the other hand, though, what option do I have? Not going back? Not seeing him at all? I'm not sure I am strong enough to choose to be away from him. I don't think I ever could.

………………………………………………

Arriving home tonight, I immediately notice that my wedding picture is not on the piano, and in my current mood it really upsets me.

"I dropped it and the frame was broken. I'm sorry." Vaughn says hastily, coming out of the library as soon as he notices that I'm home. "I knew you'd be mad, but nothing happened to the picture, I promise. We'll get another frame and put it back where it belongs, okay?"

"Okay." I say giving him a smile and a kiss. "And I'm not mad."

"Good" he sighs in relief. "So how was your day?"

"Stressful. I'm glad to be home. Is it only the two of us for dinner tonight?" I ask.

"Disappointed?" he sounds truly worried, with his brow furrowed and all.

"Of course not." I say. His expression is still a little clouded, though. "Hey, is something wrong?"

"No." he says, and I'm sure it means a yes. Something is going on.

"Are you hungry?" I ask him.

"Actually, not." he answers.

"Then I have an idea. The night is beautiful: clear sky, a full moon and a blanket of stars. Let's spend sometime outside. You get some wine and glasses; I'll get some candles. Meet you by the fountain." I detail the plan.

"Wow! 'Meet you by the fountain.' Now that's a great sentence." He chuckles.

"Yeah… Don't you love what this place allows us to say?"

"I do. This is a great scenery." he answers, but before I can dwell on his choice of words he is off to get the wine in the cellar and I find it better to go look for the candles.

We spread out a blanket on the lawn in our front yard, next to the seventeenth century fountain. Vaughn sits down on it with his knees bent up and his forearms resting on them. I watch the trembling light from the candles play on his face and his hair as I light some of them around us. He watches my every move. When I'm done, I let my body fall gently against his, cradling myself in this cocoon formed by his legs and his arms, leaning the side of my body on his chest and his stomach, and resting my head under his chin. He puts his arms around me, completely enveloping me in his embrace, and I close my eyes. We have some wine and listen to the water running next to us, and for a long time we remain silent, just enjoying our closeness.

"We do live in a fairy tale, don't we?" he finally says, and I wonder what's on his mind, because his line and his tone are the perfect mixture of enchantment and consciousness, happiness and irony I've heard so many times in my own voice.

"Perhaps we do; but I wouldn't trade it for any different reality." I say.

He pulls back from me a little bit and stare deeply into my eyes; there is no fear in his anymore. I give him a smile. He keeps watching me as I lie down on the blanket, facing him and keeping my eyes locked with his. His hand comes to my face in a sweet caress and a tear slowly forms in my eye and makes its way down my face.

"I love you." he whispers, with the softness of a sigh and the easiness of a breath.

"I love you too." I tell him back.

We don't even touch, not for a long moment, but I can feel him like I never did before.

He is mine.

…………………………………………

Kendall waits for me in the church. For the first time in almost three years, I called the meeting, not him; and it won't be work related. I don't care, though; I just have to know.

"Hello, Kendall. Thanks for meeting me." I greet him.

"Of course. Are you okay, Sydney?" he asks, scrutinizing my face.

"I need to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Is Vaughn still with Lauren Reed?" I go directly to the point. I've been postponing this way too long.

"Has he ever been?"

"Okay, Kendall, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't need philosophy now; I need an answer – a direct one, based on facts." I say bravely. "Vaughn went away for a couple of days last week. Was he in LA?"

"Yes." He answers and my face falls. "But…" Oh God, there's a 'but'.

"But what, Kendall?"

"He went there to end things with her for good." He says with a smile, and I'm pretty sure this is the first one I see on him.

"He did? So they're over?"

"Well…"

"What, Kendall?! Are you trying a new torture technique on me?"

"No, of course not. You're not letting me explain." He argues.

"So explain."

"Vaughn went to the JTF looking for her. He told her they needed to talk. She suggested that they went out for dinner, but he said he would rather talk right there, so they went to an empty conference room."

"In the JTF?!" I'm shocked, but he glares at me.

"Like you ever respected that place! Like Vaughn didn't tell you that all he could think about during important debriefs regarding SD-6 and the lives of thousands of people was kissing you – _right there at the JTF_!" he scolds me.

"How the hell do you know that?!" I ask.

"I had every single room in the facility put under audio and video surveillance when I became Assistant Director there – including your 'flirting corner'." he says with a tone.

"God, you're worse than my father!"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Wait! Is your surveillance equipment still on?"

"Yes." Here comes the second smile.

"So you watched Vaughn and Lauren's conversation!"

"Even better. I recorded it." he announces, pulling a DVD out of his briefcase.

"Uh, okay, Kendall, wait. I'm not sure I want to watch this. Maybe you could just tell me what is in the footage."

"Sydney, trust me. You need to watch this."

"Okay." I take a deep breath as Kendall turns his laptop on and starts the DVD.

The footage begins with Vaughn and Lauren entering what I recognize as one of the briefing rooms in the JTF. Always the gentleman, he opens the door for her, but I notice that he doesn't guide her inside with his hand on the small of her back, as he does with me. As soon as they are inside, she gives him a seductive smile and tries to kiss him. I flinch in my seat, but soon enough Vaughn grabs her arms and stops her.

"Lauren, we need to talk." he says, and his tone is not very kind.

"Of course, love. What is it?" her voice is nauseating.

"This isn't working." he says coldly.

"What?" she plays dumb.

"Us. This isn't working for me." he clears.

"I see…" Now she is pretending to be surprised and hurt.

"I think we should break up." He finishes bluntly.

"This is about Julia, isn't it?" she says after a short silence.

"No, it isn't. This is about us. Our problem." Vaughn says.

"She is our problem. Michael, if you're going to destroy my life the least you can do is be honest about why you're doing it." Way to go, drama queen…

"Fine. I love her. She is my wife and I love her." he says, and his expression softens.

"Sweetheart, be reasonable." It seems that Lauren is going for a new strategy. "She is not your wife. Your marriage is not real. This woman you think you love doesn't even exist; you created her as part of your charade."

"You don't know what you're talking about. My marriage is real. It has always been real."

"Michael, it's an assignment!" she almost laughs and I want to choke her "You are pretending to be married to a terrorist, to a horrible woman who kills people for a living. She is not a loving wife; she is a monster!"

"No. She is the woman I love." He says it with calm and grace, and the assurance of his tone makes me smile.

"Honey, you loved the woman she used to be. You loved Sydney; but Sydney is gone. I'm sorry, but she is gone. You have to understand this; you have to let go of the past. You're with me now; I'm right here; I'm your present; what _we_ have is real." I wonder what Kendall would do to me if I threw is laptop against the wall.

"We don't have anything, Lauren. We never had." he retorts. "My life, my very real life is with my wife. And not who she 'used to be' as you say, but who she was, who she is and who she will be. I've loved her since the first day we met; and I always will." I let out a sigh and Kendall pats my hand.

"Well, if you say so." Her sarcasm is evident. "But aren't you forgetting anything?" she asks with an evil expression.

"What?" his patience is over, I can tell.

"You lied to her. You're not who she thinks you are. You're not Christopher Bailey, you're not a loyal agent to the Covenant, you are not her faithful husband. What do you think she will do to you when she finds out the truth?"

"This is none of your business."

"She will kill you, Michael. You, your friends, your mother, who apparently loves her daughter-in-law. And then she'll be prosecuted as an enemy of Estate and executed. Lovely ending, isn't it?"

"I'm listening no more, Lauren." He heads to the door.

"We are not finished, Michael." She raises her voice, threateningly.

He turns back, looks at her again, but then leaves without saying anything else. She is still furious before leaving the room a couple of minutes later.

"Do you think she might try something against Vaughn? Or us?" I ask Kendall.

"I don't think she is that crazy, but you never know… Just in case, be careful."

I nod.

"But apart from Lauren, what did you think of the footage?" he sounds very interested, maybe a little too much, actually.

"It has excellent quality." I joke.

"Do you think I could be actually invited to the next wedding?" he asks "Breaking in the last one wasn't very glamorous."

"I would invite you, for sure, but I'm afraid I'm already married, Kendall." I answer with a proud smile.

"You are, indeed. And I think you'll remain so, against all odds." he says, and I realize that Vaughn and I have a shipper.


	37. Chapter 36

**Chapter thirty six**

It's Vaughn's and my two-year anniversary tonight and I should be home getting ready for our dinner celebration at Trattoria di Nardi. I'm running late, though, because as I was about to leave the office Kendall called and explained that he needed to meet with me immediately.

"We're ready for the take down." he solemnly announced after greeting me "Tomorrow you'll go to Cole with the information about a mole. You'll request a meeting with the Covenant leaders, which should take place in the next few days; we'll take Yelena Derevko, Alain Christophe and Sark into custody and then raid all Covenant facilities. Hopefully that will be the end."

"Okay." is all I can say. Although I've been preparing myself for this for almost three months now, it still seems that this day has arrived too soon. "Is this all?"

"Yes. You know what to do. Good luck." His tone reminds me of that distant day when we organized the Alliance raids. Only then I was excited; I felt that my life would be starting over after that night. Today all I can feel is a sense of loss.

"Thank you." I mutter. I'm about to leave when Kendall calls me again.

"Just one last thing you should know: Vaughn, Weiss and Marshall already know about the operation. Lambert briefed them earlier today."

"But he didn't mention me, right?"

"Sydney, he doesn't know about you. He was informed that an asset of mine will be meeting with the leaders of the Covenant, but he has no idea who that person is."

"Okay. Good." I turn to the door, but he stops me once more.

"But Sydney… I think it might be time to tell Vaughn the truth, don't you?" he asks.

"Do you think it would be wise to do this so short before the raid? I'm not sure how he will react." I say. Truth is I'm still afraid.

"Well, you should think this through and figure out what you are going to do. As unimaginable as it sounds, we have come to the end of this." he ponders.

"Okay. I'll figure it out. Good bye."

"Good bye."

………………………………………..

I think about what Kendall said all the way home. I was actually planning on telling Vaughn everything tonight. It's October first; it would make sense. But now I'm not sure anymore, and I can't decide if my fear of risking the operation by revealing the truth is another one of my many excuses or a valid sensible concern.

When I pull in our driveway, I spot Vaughn waiting for me at the porch.

"Sorry I'm late." I apologize, getting out of the car and walking towards him. He greets me with a kiss.

"Happy anniversary." he says smiling.

"Happy anniversary to you too." I haven't seen him in two days because he went on a mission with Weiss. "I'll be ready in ten minutes. I promise."

"It's okay, take your time. I called the restaurant. They'll hold our reservation for an extra hour." he tells me.

"You're a genius." I wink at him and go inside.

After a quick shower I put my dress on. As I stumble with the zipper, Vaughn comes inside the closet and helps me. I turn to him with a smile and he kisses me softly. I've always loved our little domestic moments, but this one becomes even more special as I realize that it could be the last time I have my husband helping me with the zipper of my dress.

"You didn't open your present." He says.

"Which present?" I ask him smiling. He points to a square box lying on the bed. I hadn't seen it in my haste to get ready. I open the box and pull a deep green silk shawl embroidered with tiny crystals out of it.

"It's gorgeous!" I tell him, wrapping the beautiful thing around my shoulders. It's soft and green and sparkling; wearing it is like being enveloped in Vaughn's glance. I walk towards him and lean in, letting my body rest against his. He pulls me in a warming embrace and I know I was never this happy in my whole life.

"I'm glad you like your shawl." he says "I hope you like your anniversary present too." he kisses my forehead.

"I'm getting another present tonight?!"

"Of course you are!" he sounds almost offended "Did you think I'd give you a shawl for our anniversary?"

"Well, this is the most perfect shawl ever made. It's beautiful and soft; it caresses me like a million kisses; and I love the color and the sparkle of the crystals. It reminds me of my husband's eyes." I tell him, letting go of Julia – and my own shyness – for a moment.

He is staring at me as if I am the most perfect creature he's ever seen.

"Maybe we should skip the restaurant." he whispers. His eyes are a dark shade of green and the air is thick between us.

"Maybe we should." my voice is hoarse and I think I will die if he doesn't kiss me this very second.

He nuzzles his face against mine and pulls back to look at me again.

"You're so beautiful." he tells me and I know, I just know how much he loves me. But I also realize that the knowledge of what is about to happen in the next few days is having an effect on him; the take down of the Covenant could also mean the end for us.

I stare at him a moment longer, looking deeply into his eyes, gazing at my reflection in my very favorite mirror – because it is in Vaughn's eyes that I find the best version of myself .

We finally kiss and I'm lost in him.

I come back to my senses hours later, still lying in his embrace. He presses a kiss on my temple as I open my eyes, and I feel a smile spread upon my face.

"You must be hungry." he says softly.

I probably am since I had nothing to eat in many, many hours, but I really don't know.

"What time is it?" I ask him.

"Uhm… almost two. Would you like to have a _very_ late supper?"

"I don't think I can move from this spot." I say, closing my eyes again, still smiling.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll get us something."

"I don't want you to go." I whine.

"I'll be back soon and you can see your present while I'm gone."

"Oh, my present!" in a split of a second I'm sitting on the mattress.

"Self-seeking" he teases me.

"A little bit." I admit.

I follow him with my eyes as he grabs a box from the middle drawer of the dresser in our closet and hands it to me.

I open it and find something wrapped in tissue paper inside. I only need to start unveiling it to know what I'm holding, as unbelievable as it seems. It's my picture frame; my antique silver picture frame, which was the first gift Vaughn ever gave me and I believed to be lost in the fire in my apartment. It's intact, though, and I have it back; only now it frames our wedding picture.

It feels like I'm holding our whole history in my hands.

My eyes fill with tears and I know I need to tell him everything, but he speaks first.

"I had something engraved on it." he says.

I turn the frame and find an inscription on the back:

_To my wife: all my love, forever and a day._

I raise my head slowly and look at him as the first tears glaze my eyes.

"I'm borrowing the words because I finally realize what they mean, because I finally understand the love in them, stronger than lies and deceit; and having realized this, they were the only ones I could think of to tell you how I feel about you, how much I love you and what you mean to me. I'm quoting them because by doing so I'm not only borrowing their significance, but also the memories of those who shared them; I'm making them mine, and I wish we could make them ours… if you let me." He stops and wipes away the tears rolling down my face. There are some threatening to escape his eyes as well. "But if you can't, all I want is that you promise me that you believe these words; that you will always believe these words, come what may; that you'll hold on to them even if everything seems to prove that they're nothing but lies." He fights to keep his voice steady until the end, but I hear the emotion in them; the love, the hope, the fear, and the fierce determination. "Do you promise me, Sydney?"

"Vaughn." I say, and it is not as much a spoken word as it is a smile, and a chant, and a caress – and an answer.

We stare at one another with unguarded eyes and I realize that what should feel very new and very scary, the first moment after a life altering revelation, is not new or scary at all; it's what we always had: our love, our complete trust in each other, and a deep sense of belonging.

"I was so afraid to tell you…" I say, breaking our comfortable moment "…and I don't even remember why."

"I understand." he says softly.

"Since when have you known?" I ask.

"I'm not sure, actually. I felt it before I knew. And when I knew for sure that there was no chance that I was wrong – this was last Christmas –, I realized that it didn't matter anymore, because I would still love you, no matter what, whoever you were; I always have."

"I love you so, so much, Vaughn." I say, and my tears meet my smile, as sobs mingle with laughter in my voice.

"You do?" he asks softly, caressing my face. "At some point I was convinced that you hated me."

"Why would you think that?" I ask, as a very familiar sense of guilt raises inside me.

"Probably because I knew I deserved it. I abandoned you, Syd. I failed you. They hurt you so much and I wasn't there for you." he is almost crying now and it breaks my heart.

"Hey, you didn't know… It's not your fault; don't blame yourself, please, don't blame yourself." I plea with him. "You didn't fail me. I could never think that."

"But you didn't tell me the truth… You pretended to be Julia all this time… When I realized that it was all a charade, the only explanation I could come up with for you not telling me was that you didn't want me anymore, that you despised me, that… maybe you were seeking some kind of revenge." he says.

"Revenge?" I'm shocked. "How could you even imagine that?"

"It would be fair." he says seriously.

"Vaughn!"

"You confused me. You knew everything and you said nothing, you lied to me. I felt so frustrated sometimes… but then you were the most perfect and loving wife, and we had this amazing marriage, and I couldn't believe it wasn't real."

"So you thought that I was getting my revenge by making you happy?! That's crazy!"

"I thought you would make me the happiest man on earth for a while and then one day you would tell me that nothing of that was true; that you didn't love me, that you never wanted to be with me… – why are you smiling?"

"Because that was my worst fear: that you would say just that to me." I answer.

"Syd, how much do you know about this whole thing?"

"I know that the CIA ordered you to marry me; and I heard you tell Weiss that you thought I was gone and that Julia didn't mean anything to you" I pause "and I know about Lauren." I finish very quietly.

"You know about Lauren" he repeats.

"Yeah." I nod.

"And you don't hate me?"

"No. I was hurt, of course, and I was angry at some point, but in the end I was only afraid and… sad."

"You've always known?" he asks.

"Yes. Kendall told me."

"Kendall?"

"He is my handler."

"What?!"

"Yeah… but he is not that bad." he makes a face, and in the middle of the most crucial conversation of my life, I smile "Are you jealous?"

"Maybe… So Kendall told you."

"Yes. I knew you were with me for a mission and I knew you went to LA every month to meet Lauren. I also knew that you proposed to her right before our wedding." I lower my eyes in the end and he swallows hard.

"And still you married me…" he says, furrowing his brow.

In the back of my mind I've always been afraid of this moment. I feared that he would find me pathetic. What I hear in his voice is not despise, though: it's admiration.

"I wanted to be your wife." is all I say and it's the absolute truth.

"But why didn't you tell me everything?" he insists.

"Because I thought you would only be with me if I was useful to your operation. I thought you wanted to forget me and be with Lauren. I thought that if I told you the truth you'd leave me. And I didn't want to lose you." I sob and an expression of pain shows on his face.

"Oh, Syd… I could never forget you; and I didn't want to be with Lauren." He gently lifts my face and makes me look at him. "I didn't marry you because I was ordered to; I married you because I love you. I tried to deny it, it's true, but if you had told me… I would never leave you. I love you so much." He takes my hand and squeezes it, as if trying to make the meaning of his words penetrate my skin.

"I knew you were afraid of your feelings for me; I didn't know what to expect. I was afraid too." I try to explain.

"I understand." He pauses for a moment as if trying to make sense of all this. "I just couldn't imagine that you would submit to such a situation."

"If someone had told me that I'd do what I did before this all happened, I would have called them crazy." I take a deep breath before continuing. "But I love you, Vaughn, I love you so much… I would have put up with anything to be with you. I just wanted to have you in my life, for as long as I could, how ever I could. It didn't matter that it wasn't real for you; it was for me. And when it ended and you were gone, I would still have my memories to hold on to."

He stares at me as if I am a goddess. But I don't want this. I just want to be the woman he loves.

"Will you hold me?" I ask him softly.

He pulls me into his arms and holds me tightly, rubbing my back and pressing soft kisses on my hair.

"It was real for me;" he whispers "as much as tried to deny it, it has always been real for me, Syd, since the very beginning. The mission was an excuse; Lauren was a very ineffective shield. That monthly weekend in LA became an ordeal. I hated lying to you; I despised myself for that; and I missed you so much… I only wanted to be with you, and I never wanted it to end. I had planned it to be all lies, but then I was terrified to find out that is was all lies." he tells me, and I believe him. However, there's still something I need to say.

"I saw you with her once."

"What? How?" he sounds like he was punched in the stomach and I understand the meaning of empathy – he can feel my pain.

"I had to go to LA one weekend and you were there too. I was under an alias, so Kendall said it was okay for me to go out if I wanted to. I went to this French restaurant, and while I was there you came in with her."

"I'm so sorry, Syd." he says in a strained voice "I don't even know what to say. I wish I had seen you."

"I was dressed as an old lady, Vaughn." I chuckle. "And it's okay. It was a long time ago."

"When?"

"Right before you proposed to me."

"Is that why you said no at first?"

"Yeah." I nod. "I was hurting and I decided to end everything with you. My resolution last less than forty eight hours. See how strong I am?" I hide my face in his chest.

"Syd, no one in the world is stronger than you are. Look at me." He forces my eyes to meet his. "I love you. I screwed up; I don't deserve you. But please believe this: I love you; I always have and I always will."

"I love you too." I say, giving him a smile. "And I want you to know that I understand what happened, the choices you made. I can't even imagine what you went through when you thought I was dead… and then found out that I wasn't, but thought that I had become Julia. That same weekend I saw you and Lauren, I went to my old apartment. I saw what was left of it… It was hard." My voice falters and Vaughn tightens his hold on me.

"It's okay, you're okay now. I'm right here. You'll never be alone again." he whispers and this is all I need to hear. He cradles me in his arms and I finally feel completely safe and warm, after so long.

"Vaughn, how did you get the picture frame?" I ask after a while, reaching for the object still lying beside me. "Everything in that apartment was burned to ashes."

"Well, that's an interesting story, actually. Leonid gave it to me." he says.

"Leonid?"

"Yeah. He took it from the apartment before setting the fires. Apparently he was so impressed that someone would keep a picture frame with no picture on their nightstand that he took it. Figured it had some special meaning." he explains.

"So he told you that he abducted me…" I deduce.

"Yeah. I punched him." I gasp. "Not too hard, though. He apologized and told me he is a defector."

"Did he say anything about me?"

"About you being a double agent?" I nod. "No. I didn't even know that he knew. All he said was that he was sorry for what he had done and that he had been keeping something that belonged to you. He wanted you to have it back."

"I see." I recall my conversation with Leonid a few days ago, when he told me that maybe not everything was lost. "He is a good person. And I love having my picture frame back. It was the thing I missed the most."

"Oh, really? More than me?" he fakes offense.

"Hey, I said a thing; you're not a thing. Plus, I never lost you, right?" I wink at him.

"Right. And you never will." he kisses me and I nuzzle my face against his neck.

"I finally have the perfect picture for the frame" I say, admiring it.

"Yeah, you do. We do." he agrees, and then it occurs to me.

"You didn't break the other frame on purpose, did you?" I ask.

"No! I just hid it, I promise." he quickly says.

"Okay." I smile.

"But since we are in the subject, I was actually wondering if you'd like to have another wedding…"

"Are you actually proposing to me on our anniversary, Mr. Vaughn?"

"Oh no, Ms. Bristow. I'm not asking you if you will marry me; we're married and you are not getting rid of me. I'm simply asking if you'd like to have another ceremony." he clears.

"Oh, I see. First, I never want to get rid of you. And about the ceremony, I don't think I want a new one. Of course I'd like us to sign real papers, with real names on them, but that's all. I loved our wedding. It was perfect… we could never top that." I say, staring at the picture.

"Well, I happen to agree. That was the happiest day of my life."

"Of mine too. We've had many other perfect days together, though."

"We'll have many more." he says, kissing me.

"I know." I murmur, snuggling my body even closer to his and letting my head rest on his shoulder. He cradles me, lulling me into sleep.

"Close your eyes." he says softly into my ear. "We'll have time to talk later. There's no rush."

"We have all the time in the world." I agree.

"And a day." he adds, pulling me down on the mattress with him and kissing my forehead sweetly.

...... ...... ...... ......

**A/N: **I hope I didn't disappoint you guys… I know you've been wainting for this chapter for a long, long time. Let me know what you think. I always love hearing from you.


	38. Chapter 37

**A/N: **Hey,everyone! I'm sorry it took me longer than usual to update; I wasn't very pleased with the first version of this chapter, and it took me a while to rewrite it.

Thank you so much for all the reviews! I was so excited with your reactions! You know, I love reading, more than anything in the world, and I've always thought that it was amazing how some novels or poems could have an effect on people that real life events couldn't. My favorite books taught me so many things, they helped me become who I am, they made me cry, and smile, and think, and dream. And I love them for it. So, sorry if I'm rambling here, but I wanted you to know how much it means to me to know that you're moved by this story, that it touched you somehow.

Oh, and about the chapters we have left… well, we're getting to the end: only one more after this one :( but there will be an epilogue…

**Chapter thirty seven**

I open my eyes and Vaughn is watching me with a huge smile. For a moment I fear that last night might have been just a dream, but then I see the silver picture frame on the nightstand and smile back at him.

"Hi."

"Hi." he echoes.

"Did you sleep well?" I ask, rubbing his arm.

"Actually I watched you most of the time." he grins, and I hide my face in his chest "Amazing how I can still make you blush" he teases me "So, ready to take down the Covenant?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly looking forward to it – which sounds a lot like treason, doesn't it?" I chuckle.

"A little bit, yeah, but I was thinking about maybe sabotaging the mission myself." he jokes.

"Nice. We could go rogue together. But now…"

"Now everything will be fine. The Covenant will end and we will be together, no aliases, no lies."

"Yeah" I sigh in contentment as he combs his fingers through my hair. "I'll miss this house, though." I add. "I love it so much… I loved every moment we spent here."

"Well, we don't have to move if you don't want to…" he says, to my surprise.

"But… the CIA owns it and…" I start, confused.

"No. _We _own it. The CIA rented it; I convinced the former owner to sell it to me." he explains, and I'm stunned.

"What? When?"

"A couple months ago. You sent me to Iceland with Weiss because you had to meet that contact in Turkey, remember?"

"You didn't like that." I say with an evil grin.

"I _didn't like_ that?! I was furious and… desperate. I thought you didn't give me a damn and that leaving me would be the easiest thing for you. So I had this crazy idea." I glance at him quizzically. "I knew you loved the villa, so I thought that if I bought it I would have some sort of leverage, you know?"

"What?! You were going to try and buy my love using the villa?! Is that what you think of me, Vaughn?!" I ask, doing my best to keep a straight face.

"I'm sorry! I told you I was desperate…"

"You know what? It would have totally worked." I wink at him.

"See? I know you!" he cheers playfully and we both laugh. "Anyway, we can stay here if that's what you want. I love this place too."

"Really? I thought you'd want to go back to LA. I mean, there's your mom…"

"You mean that evil woman who loves her daughter-in-law more than her own son?" he asks pointedly.

"Vaughn!" I scold him, laughing.

"It's true. She fell in love with you." he insists.

"Well, it's mutual." I say, and he smiles broadly.

"We can have a place in LA and visit her whenever we want." he says, serious now.

"Sounds good. I guess my parents will be staying there too, so…"

"Your parents?"

"Yeah… that weekend, I didn't go to Turkey; I went to LA to meet with my parents and Sloane – that's when the plan for the take down was conceived, actually. My dad had just been released from federal prison; it was the first time I saw him since I was abducted. So, you see, I had a really good reason not to go to Iceland with you."

"You certainly did. And that's great news. I didn't know about Jack's release. But your mother was there as well?"

"Yeah. She's been working with Kendall for a while now."

"I see." he pauses and I wonder if this is going to be another difficult conversation about what my mother did to his father. "Do your parents know about us?" is what he asks, though.

"Yes. My mother knew from the beginning. She even helped me pick my wedding dress… and she was there for our wedding." I say.

"Really?"

"Yeah. And Kendall too." I add.

"Our wedding had one hell of a guest list, that's for sure!" Vaughn jokes. "I loved your dress, though." he adds, kissing me. "But what about your dad? Does he know?" There's obvious concern in his voice.

"I told him everything during that weekend." I nod.

"And how come I'm still alive?" he chuckles.

"Well, at first he was very angry at you, but then it was me he was furious with." I cringe.

"How's that?"

"He said I had become my mother… lying to my husband, fabricating a life with you just like she did to him. He practically called me a whore."

"Oh, no." Vaughn rubs my back soothingly.

"I had to convince him that I loved you." I smile.

"Really? And how did you do that?" he smiles back.

"Oh, you know, I just described our routine of romantic dances and family dinners and gardening and kisses and…" he cuts me by capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

"I'm sure you convinced him just fine." he whispers.

"Mmmhmm" I murmur.

…………………………………..

We stay in bed a while longer, oblivious to the world outside, planning our life as a family, sharing impressions about our time as Julia and Christopher.

"Who were we kidding?" Vaughn asks at some point, and it's rhetorical, because the thing is we've been ourselves this whole time; there's always been truth in all the lies and a solid reality behind the façade we built. As we realize this, all the fear fades away, replaced by pure joy.

I ask him about my ring and the story Amélie told me, and he says that it had to be mine, that he had planned to give it to me in Santa Barbara, and he still wanted to do so, even if I had been turned into an evil terrorist, even if I would never know what it truly meant. He tells me how he realized that he was in love with Julia and had to accept that he would always love me, whoever I was or whoever I believed I was, and how it ended up helping him figure things out. I thank him for the rose garden and he just smiles and kisses me once again.

An hour later, we finally decide that we need to get up. As he makes his way to the bathroom, though, he turns back to me, a bright smile on the face, and says I can go hug his pillow. My face turns a dark shade of red, and as he laughs, telling me I am adorable, I throw both our pillows at him. He grabs me and holds me tightly as we fall back on the mattress laughing out loud. We just stare at one another, lying side by side on the messy sheets, and he notices my sudden melancholy almost as soon as I feel it. I tell him how his empty good-morning smiles used to make me sad, and he explains that every morning since we got married he feared the day he wouldn't wake up beside me anymore. I look deeply into his eyes and promise him that this day will never come, and he gives me a smile that makes up for all the others.

I help him with his tie and he tells me that this has always been his favorite moment of the day. He wraps the colorful shawl from Positano around my shoulders and I ask him why he took me on that trip; "I just wanted to be with you" he answers, and I'm overwhelmed by these small confessions we make, each of them strong as a revelation, proof of a love so deep in its roots that it could find its firm nourishing soil below all the layers of lies.

…………………………………

"You know, I've always liked these curtains." he confesses as we make our way downstairs.

"Oh, I knew it!" I exclaim, chuckling and shaking my head at him.

"Sorry." He kisses my forehead. "At first… I guess I was just a little overwhelmed at how perfect we were together… I mean, we never fought, we never disagreed on anything. It… scared me, somehow."

"I understand."

"But then I started to find our little arguments about curtains kind of funny…" he laughs.

"Yeah, they were funny…" I agree. "But I knew you loved the curtains!"

"Okay, okay…"

Together we put our picture frame on the piano, where it belongs.

"How could we ever think this was not for real?" I ask Vaughn as we admire our wedding picture, holding each other mimicking our position on it.

"We were afraid." he says, kissing my temple "And it doesn't matter. It didn't stop us from living our life and being happy. Look at us."

"Weiss is a great photographer" I say.

"Weiss knows, doesn't he?" Vaughn asks.

"Yeah." I admit "But he's only known for a few months. He figured it out and I ended up telling him everything. Don't be mad at him. I asked him not to tell you. He was just being a good friend to me." I explain.

"I'm not mad at him. I know he was there for you when I couldn't be, and I'm grateful to him for that. Plus, he was the one keeping me sane all this time." he says, and something occurs to me.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything you want."

"Did you have doubts that day? About marrying me, I mean."

"No." he furrows his brow "Why do you ask?"

"When Weiss came to congratulate us after the ceremony… I don't know; you seemed to be thanking him, like he had to convince you or something… it was just an impression, but…"

"Oh God, why did I have to marry the best spy in the world?" he chuckles.

"What? Do you regret it?!" I ask him with a playful threatening glare.

"Not in a million years." he hastens to say. I love his tone. "And I didn't have any doubts on our wedding day. Weiss came in the room where I was getting ready and found me staring blankly at the mirror. I think it was the first time it really hit me: that I was marring you; and I felt… overwhelmed. I had all these moments playing back in my mind: the day we met and how badly I wanted to take care of you, even though you wouldn't let me; our time as handler and asset, our crazy first date, our first kiss in the wreckage of SD-6, how wonderful it was to finally have you just to lose you so soon… It almost killed me, Syd…" he says with clouded eyes, and I tighten my hold on him "So I stood there and I couldn't believe we would end up together at last. I was so happy… but so confused and terrified at the same time." I nod; it's not like I didn't experience that myself. "Weiss knew exactly what I needed to hear, though. He told me to stop thinking; to take this second chance I was given. So I stripped myself of my defenses, of everything I thought I knew, and stood at that altar with a bare heart. And when I saw you coming down the aisle... God, you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, you were my Sydney, making your way back to me… I let myself believe." I look deeply into his eyes and I don't get lost; I find home again.

"I let myself believe too." I say, as he kisses my forehead sweetly and we share a long glance, which speaks a million words.

"Syd?" he whispers.

"Yeah?" I smile.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

…………………………………….

It only takes Hannah a moment to figure out what happened and her smile shows how much she truly cares about Vaughn and me. He notices it and turns to me with a quizzical glance.

"Hannah is CIA." I say, and he is shocked.

"Okay… I did not see this coming."

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment." Hannah says to him. "It's nice to meet you, Agent Vaughn." she laughs.

"My pleasure, Hannah." he plays along, shaking her hand.

I smile at their interaction – the two people who made it their job to take care of me, not only keeping me safe, but truly looking after me, and I know that, in spite of everything, I've been lucky.

……………………………………..

Vaughn asks me about the operation over breakfast. He is concerned about my meeting with Yelena, Christophe and Sark, and although I reprimand myself for my selfishness, I have to confess that I love to see him worry about me, not out of some sadistic pleasure, of course, but because every wrinkle on his forehead is a sign of his love for me. He catches my smile and furrows his brow even more.

"Why are you smiling?" he asks.

"It's just… well, years ago, soon after we met and way before I could admit to myself that I was falling in love with you, I already loved having you as my handler. You were always worrying about me and making sure I knew that you cared. It gave me confidence. I knew that I wasn't alone; that you'd stand by me no matter what; and whatever happened to me, I would always have you by my side. But lately I had to get used to avoid your questions and to second guess the legitimacy of your interest, of your concern. And it was hard, it was so hard… It's good to know it's over."

"Syd, listen to me." He says, brushing the back of my hand with his thumb. "I did sometimes guide you into specific talks because I needed information, I did go through your stuff looking for things and I did steal intel from you on occasion, but please believe me: I despised myself for doing that; and most important: whenever I asked you about your day or one of your missions and you mentioned that it had been hard or dangerous or simply that you were tired, I simply forgot that I was supposed to be looking for something and my full attention was driven to you, to your well-being. I've always worried about you, Syd, I've always wanted to take care of you, and it made me crazy that I couldn't do it like I used to." his eyes plea for me to believe him, and I do. His words move me and embrace me in a cocoon of safety.

"I need you." I say, and it's probably the last thing the world would expect to hear from me, but it's true, and I utter the words with ease. They're not a sign of weakness, they're part of who I am.

"I got you." he says, entwining our fingers, and I know he does. Still, what he says next surprises me. "I'll talk to Kendall; I want to be your back-up at the meeting with the Covenant leaders." I don't even try to fight him; I just smile. Having Vaughn's voice on my earpiece has always been a solace – I might even say a joy – in the hardest missions, and I've missed it terribly. I'm not about to pass the chance to have it back.

…………………………………

To my surprise, Kendall is very receptive to Vaughn's request to be my back up. All he asks is that we meet with him to set some final details, so we leave the house together, in one car, and head to the old church.

As we make our way up to the attic, Vaughn is still laughing about the fact that our maid is actually a CIA agent, and he almost chokes in his own laughter when I tell him my suspicions about Hannah and Kendall.

"But she seems such a nice person!" he exclaims.

"I know!" I laugh, having a blast watching him become a part of every single piece of my life again.

Kendall is in an extremely good mood this morning. He reviews the plan with Vaughn, provides him with gear and tells him it will be great to have him being part of this operation, being all nice.

"You won him over." Vaughn says, sounding quite impressed, as we make our way back to the car, hand-in-hand.

"Don't worry. You're still my favorite handler." I tell him with a smile.

"Good to know." he says, kissing me.

As we drive to the office, glancing at each other every now and then, and smiling all the time, I blink at the sunlight pricking my eyes and realize that this, right here, is a new beginning. The long night is gone, my horrible nightmare is finally over, and my dream has come true.


	39. Chapter 38

**A/N: **Hey, everyone! So, "officially", this is the last chapter; but don't worry: there's still the epilogue coming.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

**Chapter thirty eight**

Convincing Cole that there's a mole inside the Covenant is not hard at all, paranoid as he is. In less than ten minutes, I leave his office with instructions to meet with Yelena, Christophe and Sark this very afternoon in a hotel in Via Nazionale. I'm supposed to be at the lobby at three pm sharp and wait for my contact, who will provide me with further instructions.

At two fifty, Vaughn, Weiss and Marshall (who practically blew my cover and the entire operation this morning, in his excitement upon finding out that I hadn't turned evil after all – although he made sure I knew he liked Julia just fine) park their van in an alley beside the _Albergo Quirinale_. Five minutes later, I make my way inside the hotel's grand hall, my stiletto heels clicking on the marble floors, my dark reflection sliding on the walls lined with golden-framed crystal mirrors. I take a seat in one of the many red velvet covered armchairs and wait, refraining myself from smiling when Vaughn's voice fills my ear, telling me that a man he recognizes as a Covenant officer is coming inside.

The agent approaches me and drops a small envelope on my lap. It contains a key-card to room 747, what I immediately tell Vaughn. On my way up, he wishes me good luck and my reflection at the elevator's mirror smiles back at me – this is just like the old days. I walk down long corridors on the seventh floor until finding the door reading 747. A green light on the electronic locker flicks as soon as I insert the key card, and after taking a deep breath I push the door with confidence. The room has sandy colored walls and armchairs covered in soft blue suede, I notice, and almost smile, wondering what Vaughn would say if he knew I was paying attention to interior decoration when Sark, Alain Christophe and Yelena Derevko stand a few feet away from me.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms Thorne." Sark greets me in his cocky manners. "These are my associates: Ms. Derevko and _Monsieur_ Christophe. I'm Mr. Sark. We were told you believe that we have a mole in our organization. Is that right?"

"Unfortunately, I have reason to believe so." I say "But given the implications of the issue, before I say anything else, I must ask: are we alone?"

"I assure you it's safe to talk here. No one is listening." Sark answers, and through my earpiece I can hear Vaughn sending the CIA team up.

"Good. What I became aware of is that a sample of Rambaldi's Long-life Elixir was produced by the American DSR. This wouldn't be possible unless they had stolen at least one of the ingredients to the formula from us."

"You're referring to the fluid from the Inkwell – Yelena starts, but before she can say anything else CIA agents are coming inside the room. Sark attempts to pull his gun, but I stop him and he sends me a glare which is a mixture of anger, astonishment and admiration. This I got to give to him: he's always appreciated my skills. Weiss drags him out of the room as other agents do the same to Yelena and Christophe. Marshall, who seems thrilled to be part of the actual mission, takes Sark's laptop.

"They really trusted you, didn't they? No back up…" Vaughn comments, smiling at me from the door.

"Yeah. As my father says, double agent duty is my specialty." I say, and the bitterness in my voice doesn't escape him.

"Hey, it's almost over." he comforts me, taking my hand in his and squeezing it reassuringly.

"I know." I smile. "Have you contacted Kendall?"

"Yeah. Marshall is analyzing the hard drive in Sark's computer. As soon as we have the security codes for all the Covenant cells, the operation will be authorized. It should be only a couple of hours. Teams are in stand by."

"Good. We should get going, then."

"Yeah." we share a smile.

………………………………………

The plan is for Leonid, Weiss, Vaughn and I to be at the Covenant headquarters by the time of the raid, so that Cole and our "colleagues" don't suspect anything, which they certainly would if we were all missing. Marshall is helping Kendall coordinate the operation, but apart from his absence, everything seems normal in our office. I told Cole that my meeting went fine and that Sark should be contacting him anytime. So now I'm staring blankly at my computer screen, as Vaughn stands behind my chair and rubs my shoulders, expectation building up inside us.

It's five thirty when I get a text message in my cell phone (there was no way we could wear comms inside this building): _ETA 5 min_ – it reads.

We all exchange glances and silent 'good lucks' while reaching for our guns, vests and masks, all hidden under the desks. We take position and as soon as the first noises of doors being knocked down and glass being shattered reach us, we move. That's it: the time has come.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins as the raid starts, with dozens of CIA agents rushing inside the place. The first shots are fired and the Covenant agents fight back, while desk trained officers take protection behind desks, bookcases or whatever shelter they can find. Computers are hit, light bulbs blow up, partitions come to the ground, and suddenly these once calm offices become a battle field. I knock Cole to the ground with a kick and notice that Weiss is having some trouble with Simon Walker. Vaughn comes to his help, though, and soon enough Simon is lying flat with his face to the ground.

In fifteen minutes, it's over. What I hoped for and feared the most for these last three years has happened: the Covenant is gone.

Carefully stepping around shattered glass, destroyed furniture and smoky wreckage, I make my way to my office, now in ruins. The only thing still standing in the room is the side table where we kept the coffee pot and the china cups, which amazingly pulled through the battle unharmed. I take one of them in my hands with a melancholic feeling: it's a remembrance of the life I led here; the international spy life full of deceit, intrigue and elaborate plans, but also the little day-to-day life made of routine elements such as coffee cups.

"Hey" Vaughn's voice calls my attention, and when I turn around to face him standing by the doorframe, I realize that we're back to the beginning – he's found me; except now I don't have to pretend to be Julia and he doesn't have any sign of sorrow or anger in his eyes; guilt has turned into hope, pain has turned into love. I walk towards him with determination and he meets me midways. We kiss in the ruins of this place that brought us together and kept us apart, and I am reminded of that distant night in SD-6, a moment so similar, yet so different from this one, for then Vaughn was a dream, a promise, a new found love, and now he is my husband, my life, my everything.

Weiss walks in circles around us unsuccessfully trying to catch our attention with news about the raids, and then accusing us of transforming exciting CIA operations full of action into chick flicks time after time. We simply ignore him.

"They always do that" I hear him tell Leonid, who chuckles.

………………………………………….

Vaughn and I have every intention of going home as soon as possible to celebrate the success of the operation and have some well deserved rest, but Kendall, who arrives soon after the raid to inspect the building, asks him to help with the inventory. Vaughn assures me this won't take long and we decide that I should leave before someone asks something for me as well.

"Weiss will take me home as soon as we're done." He says, kissing me.

"Okay. I'll ask Hannah to make something delicious for dinner." I smile at my husband and my friend.

"Nice!" Weiss beams, and looking at him and Vaughn, at Leonid, who is celebrating that fact that he'll finally go to America, and at Marshall, who proudly inspects what is left of our computers, I know that everything is fine now.

Driving along the cobblestone road leading to the villa, I recall the events which brought me to this point in life. I used to think that my existence was a poorly written screenplay, full of inconsistencies and untied knots; now, though, I can see the bigger picture and make sense of my path – and I'm proud of it. I lived through drama, tragedy and all kinds of plot twists – it's made me stronger; now I'm ready to my happy end.

If I had to lose my mom so soon and deal with an absent dad; if I had to be lied to and spend years working for the people I thought I was fighting; if I had to lose Danny; if I had to become a double agent; if I had to lose my house, my friends, my identity; if I had to become Julia Thorne; if I had to deceive the people I love the most; if I had to do this all to be where I am, to find Vaughn, to love him, to have him love me back – then, I can say without a shadow of a doubt: it was all worth it.

I've seen all shades of darkness; I've seen the worst in people; more than once I became victim to their cruelty, to their greed, to their obsession. The shadows have dissipated, though, and now I can truly appreciate the beauty of the life I conquered – a life full of light, full of color: golden shades of autumn, blue skies with white cotton clouds, green lawns, an ocher house with yellow walls and marble floors inside, and roses in every possible color. This is my world now: a perfect world I get to share with the man I love, with our friends and family.

I smile, thinking of Vaughn, as I pull in our driveway. When I reach the porch I notice that the entrance door is open; in spite of my spy training, it doesn't bother me: Hannah probably left it opened when she went outside at the yard, I figure. I enter the house without a single concern in my mind. That's when I see her.

Lauren stands in the piano room, next to the window panes overlooking the rose garden. She has her back to the entrance and her blond hair cascades down her shoulders in perfect waves. She wears a gray suit and high heeled designer shoes. There's nothing messy or unruly about her, but it bothers me to see her in this house: she disrupts its atmosphere, her presence taints it. And it might be just my imagination, but I think somehow the villa knows that this person is not welcome: it barricades itself against her. Right now, there's nothing homey about this place which has warmly opened its doors to Vaughn and I, to our family, to our friends. And as this intruder slowly turns her face to me, I can tell rich and elegant Miss Read feels, probably for the first time in her life, that she doesn't belong somewhere, that she's not good enough to stand in a room. She's in someone else's realm, and she is the enemy. Her presumption, though, is bigger than I thought.

"It's a beautiful garden you have here." she says in that nauseating tone of hers.

"Thank you." I answer dryly.

"Ms Thorne" she starts, and I realize she has no idea of what's been going on these last twenty four hours "I apologize for coming unannounced, but I needed to talk to you. I'm Lauren Reed and I'm with the NSC. Before you think of taking any actions against me, I should inform you that the CIA raided every Covenant facility this afternoon and your organization was shut down completely." She pauses and watches me, smiling at the shock registering on my face, interpreting it the wrong way.

"So you're here to arrest me…" I say coldly and maybe a little amused, playing along, curious to find out where this is going.

"I'm a senior officer, Ms Thorne. That's someone else's job."

"Oh, I'm sorry…" I apologize as if I had made a _faux pas_.

"Use your irony all you want, Julia. I'm here to talk about your husband." she says, trying to stop her jaw and her lips from trembling.

"Really? What about him?"

"He's not who you think he is. His name is Michael Vaughn; he is a CIA agent who's been ordered to seduce and marry you. He deceived you, Julia; he betrayed you. Your marriage is a façade he put up. He's actually engaged to me." she announces victoriously.

I don't say anything. I can't believe what I hear. From where she sees it, I am a dangerous terrorist, a cold-blooded assassin, and still she's blowing Vaughn's cover, risking his life – and hers – just to get back at me.

"I realize how hard learning this must be for you. You probably believed that he truly loved you; or maybe you still have hope that he does… Well, Julia, I assure you that Michael would never love someone like you. He wouldn't even look at you with respect. He's a CIA agent, an honorable man; you are… a criminal." she says, full of despise, and I can't deny that even though I am sure that Vaughn loves me – and that he would still love me even if I had truly become Julia – hearing her say this hurts, for it's my worst fear come to life.

I know it's not real, though – the fear. And love is stronger, as is the trust I have in Vaughn and me. So, it's with confidence and grace that I respond.

"Lauren, you know nothing about this; about Vaughn and me; about what we had, what we have. Someone like you could never understand it."

"What are you saying?" she asks, her victorious expression beginning to falter.

"Vaughn and I love each other, Lauren." I say evenly. She gapes at this, but then her glance averts to some point behind me, and when I turn around I see Vaughn standing at the doorframe, looking quite upset.

"What are you doing here?" he asks Lauren coldly. "You have no right to come to my home and bother my wife." he says, coming to standing beside me and putting one arm around my waist protectively.

"Michael, what are you saying? She is a terrorist, a murderer, a criminal. The CIA will be here soon to take her into custody."

"I am CIA, Lauren." I say, and her face falls.

"What?! Michael, have you been lying to me all this time?"

"I didn't know that Sydney was a double agent, if that's what you're asking. But yes, in a way, I've been lying to you… and to myself. I've always loved Sydney; she's always been the only person in my life. I'm sorry I let you think otherwise, Lauren. I'm sorry if I hurt you; I truly am."

I follow Lauren with my eyes as she storms out of the house, and when she's out of sight I bury my face into Vaughn's neck. He hugs me tightly, rubbing my back.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through this…" he says quietly.

"It's okay. I'm fine." I whisper and he combs his fingers through my hair. "I'm glad it's over... and I'm glad that our life didn't end up being a tragedy."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… this might sound silly, but since Kendall told me that you had been ordered to marry me and I accepted to be part of the charade, I've felt a little bit like a tragic heroine… and then you took me to the opera that once…"

"Oh… «Madame Butterfly»…"

"Yeah… That night I thought I was watching my own life put up on the stage."

"I know." he says softly.

"Why did you do that? take me to «Madame Butterfly», I mean. Were you trying to warn me or something?" I ask, looking up into his eyes. They smile at me.

"No… I… I guess I just needed to do that, you know? Like when you know that something will hurt you, but the temptation is just too strong to resist."

"Yeah… I guess I do." I say, smiling at him.

"Yeah." he chuckles. "Anyway, I had never seen «Madame Butterfly». I knew the plot, but I had never seen it on stage. And in face of what was going on, of what I was about to do, I… I wanted to see what it was like. I don't know… I guess rationally I tried to convince myself that maybe seeing it would make me feel a little bit better, a little less guilty." I furrow my brow at this logic. "Crazy, huh?" Vaughn asks, noticing my expression "Of course I left the Opera House feeling much, much worse. You're right: it was tragic…" he gives me a melancholic smile. I run my hand through his hair.

"Well, this might not make any sense, but I loved going to that opera with you." I say.

"You were so sad… Now I understand why." he says, pressing a kiss on my forehead. "I'm so sorry, Syd."

"You were sad too. I think the truth was out there that night, somehow."

"Yeah… it was. If only we had said something…"

"No, Vaughn. There's nothing to regret, nothing to be sorry for. We did what we thought we needed to do; and it didn't stop us from loving each other – you said so this morning and I couldn't agree more. I wouldn't change a thing in our history, in the life we built."

"Really?"

"Really. But I'm very happy that my husband chose me instead of the 'American wife'." I smile and he holds me tighter.

"You know, Officer Pinkerton was a complete jerk, but he loved his Butterfly." he whispers into my ear.

"Oh… did he?"

"Mmmhmm. Very much." he says softly, sending chills down my spine.

"I love you, Vaughn."

"I love you too, my little Butterfly."


	40. Epilogue

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! Sorry for the delay. It was hard to write the epilogue and say good bye to the story, but here it is, and I hope you like it.

Just a few words to my reviewers: thank you so, so much for reading and reviewing my fic. I read so many wonderful Alias fics over the years, but I never thought I would be able to write my own. I couldn't let go of this idea, though, so two years ago I wrote the first chapters of this fic, and from time to time (whenever I had a major crisis of Alias abstinence, which I do quite often) I'd go back to them. I decided to post the story because I wanted to know what other people would think of it and also because I hoped it would be an incentive to finish it. Well, it worked; I did finish it – mostly thanks to you guys. But I also gained much more from it. The best part of these last few months was writing and waiting to know what you would write in return. I loved every single one of your reviews; I'm thrilled that you gave part of your time to read what I wrote and leave me a comment. Believe me: you made this story much better than I ever thought it could be. It's yours too. Thank you so much!

Oh, and about writing other fics… I didn't think I would when I started this one, but now I'm seriously considering it. I'll miss you guys so much!

**Epilogue**

I enter the house at ten pm. It's dark in the foyer, but there is some light coming from the second floor. I leave my coat, my bag and my books on a nearby chair and make my way up the stairs. As I reach the last of the steps, I hear Vaughn's voice, softly humming a lullaby, coming from Isabelle's room. Standing at the doorway, I quietly watch my husband cradling our baby daughter in his arms. He sits with her in the rocking chair and holds her carefully, his head bowed to her, a smile on the lips.

Night after night, I come home and find them like that. Sometimes Isabelle is already peacefully asleep in her daddy's arms when I arrive; sometimes she is still full of energy, giggling in Vaughn's lap; but usually she is drifting off, fighting sleep just to give me a last smile and get a good night kiss from her Mommy.

I am biased, I know, but Isabelle is the most beautiful and the most gracious baby I've ever seen. She has sparkling green eyes like Vaughn's and her hair is a perfect mix of my brown and his sandy blond. She is funny and sweet, and I can already tell that she's smart and very sensitive. Sometimes she looks at us as if she knew how much we had to endure to finally be together and become a family; she seems to know that she is the happy ending of a real life fairy-tale.

As for me, I feel that she is our blessing. She brought so much love and so much happiness into our lives – even before being born.

When I found out that I was pregnant, Vaughn and I decided to leave the Agency. I became an assistant professor at the _Università di Roma_, teaching American Literature, and Vaughn got a job as an international liaison for a high technology firm based in Rome. It seems, though, that one never quits the CIA for good; we should have known.

When I was almost six months pregnant, Vaughn and I got a call: it was Dixon, who had become Director of the Joint Task Force. He asked us to go back to America. His argument: it could mean the end of Sloane. He had had his pardon agreement revoked – as we suspected, his humanitarian foundation was just a charade, another short cut in his on-going pursuit of Rambaldi – and he would be facing a new trial. The CIA wanted my dad, Vaughn and I to give depositions this time, since we couldn't do so on the first trial, and it ended the way it ended.

Such a request should have upset us; it meant spending at least a month in LA, and it was an awful time to be away from home. We were happily getting ready for the baby – taking Lamaze classes, decorating the nursery, buying cute little outfits and way too many toys. Plus, we were eagerly expecting Amélie's arrival. She had promised to stay sometime with us, to keep me company in the last months of pregnancy and then help with her grandchild. Even my Dad was entertaining the possibility of coming for a visit.

We ended up warming up to the idea, though. Instead of having Amélie and Dad come to us, we would go to them, and it would also be an opportunity to be with our friends, who we missed terribly. Weiss, Marshall, Leonid and even Hannah had left Rome less than a week after the Covenant takedown, and since then Vaughn and I hadn't have many opportunities to spend time with them. So we didn't complain about going to LA, even if our main reason to go was the unpleasant task of taking part in Sloane's trial. We asked Weiss to find us an apartment in his neighborhood, which he was thrilled to do, and got settled in this nice cozy place in Venice, near the beach and ten steps away from our best friend.

Apart from the long mornings in the Court House, things were great. LA was not the sad place, full of bad memories it had been for me at some point. Although Rome had truly become my home, I felt comfortable in America again, and it was great to have my friends around once more. Weiss had dinner with us almost every evening; Hannah practically moved in the apartment; Leonid, who was infatuated with the American way of life, came to visit quite often, and went on and on telling us about his favorite TV shows; Carrie and I went shopping for baby stuff and took Mitchell to the park; and Marshall came to see us in the weekends to tell us about his last invention: Teddy the bear ("because spies have children too"): a stuffed animal which could not only walk and sing, play drum and ride a monocycle, but also record hours of footage with the digital cameras implanted in its eyes, locate bugs and explosive devices with its powerful sniffer, say basic sentences in thirty different languages and teach rudiments of Math and Physics. (Vaughn soon started calling it the "Project Christmas Gift".)

Amélie threw me a baby shower in her house and invited all her friends. She seemed so proud to introduce me to them as her daughter-in-law… I had been worried about her reaction to knowing I lied to her son all that time, but in fact she wasn't upset at all.

"This is a wonderful love story." she said to Vaughn and me when we told her everything.

"Amélie, did you know? Did you know I was pretending to be Julia?" I asked her.

"Oh, Sydney… I knew you loved Michael and I knew he loved you. As for me, in three days you had my heart. I hoped you were just pretending, because that would make things easier, but I was confident that the two of you would end up sorting everything out whatever the circumstances. Looking at you is all it takes to know… there's no way you could be apart." She smiled and Vaughn took my hand, entwining our fingers. Amélie was right.

Dad seemed to really enjoy spending time with me – and with Vaughn, too. Sometimes I got home and found them talking pleasantly in the living room, and Dad didn't look at Vaughn as if he wasn't worthy of me anymore. It seemed that he had not simply accepted my choice, but fully approved it. Besides, he was truly excited about the baby, although he would always argue that he was too young to become a grandfather. I don't know if it was the idea of losing me for good or the time in jail, but he didn't seem so proud of his independent (aka lonely) life anymore. When I asked him about Mom, he glanced at me with a light expression.

"Well, Sydney, no one can hold on to Irina Derevko for long… but she promised to come visit soon." he sounded happy.

"She could visit in Rome…" I tried "What do you think, Dad?"

"I don't know." he said, and this was more than I expected.

"It would be nice to have you there, Jack." Vaughn said, entering the kitchen, where Dad and I had been talking.

"Thank you." Dad said, after a short silence. It wasn't an answer, not yet; but it was definitely something.

A few days after this talk, Vaughn and I decided to take a weekend trip to Santa Barbara. Once more, though, we didn't make it there. I don't have much of a recollection of what happened; I remember being in the car talking to Vaughn and then feeling a strong pressure on my belly, which soon turned into pain; then I must have fainted, because the next thing I remember is the hospital and a doctor trying to calm me down while doing an ultrasound. When I finally woke up again, I was lying on a hospital bed, with Vaughn holding my hand. The tears came to my eyes before I could ask him anything.

"Syd, it's fine. The baby is fine." He hastened to tell me, as I cried harder. "You had a placental abruption, but the doctors fixed it. It's okay now." he assured me.

"You promise?" I sobbed.

"Yes. I promise." He kissed my hand and then my forehead. "There's something, though: you'll need to stay on bed rest for the next months."

"But…"

"We can't go back now, Syd." He said seriously. And then added in a lighter tone: "I guess the baby wants to be born in America."

"A true patriot." I smiled.

"That she will be, for sure." he agreed.

"She?" I asked in a small voice. The baby had been playing hide-and-seek with us until that day.

"Oh yes. She." we shared a smile. We were having a daughter.

At first, I thought those next two months would be a living hell. I was allowed out of bed only to go the bathroom and take a quick shower. Amélie and Hannah came to stay with me permanently and Carrie, Weiss and my Dad made sure to stop by for at least half an hour every day. Vaughn would spend every second he had free by my side. Still, I could tell everyone was afraid I got depressed – and to be honest, so was I. In the end, though, it wasn't so bad. I spent most of the time rereading my favorite books, and Donovan would lie beside me in bed, with his head resting on my knee. Soon we became inseparable.

"Quite impressive." Vaughn said with a huge grin the first time he found the two of us together. "He's always hated Lauren."

"Oh, I knew you were a smart dog!" I said to Donovan, petting him as Vaughn laughed.

When we came back to Rome, I refused to let Donovan behind, and he became Isabelle's most faithful guardian. He's always close to her and she loves him. I smile watching him lying on the floor beside the rocking chair, snoring, also lulled by Vaughn's singing. Isabelle's eyes are closed now and her breath is deep and even; she's fast asleep, I can tell, but still her little hand has a tight grip on her daddy's finger. She's always done that, since they first met, when she was only hours old.

After a long night in the delivery room, Vaughn and I were talking in my bedroom at the hospital, grinning like fools and trying to choose a name – we couldn't make a decision – when the nurse came in bringing that pretty rosy baby wrapped in blankets. I took her in my arms and Vaughn sat behind me in bed, hugging us and touching Isabelle's cute little hand. As soon as he did this, she wrapped her small fingers around his. I chuckled softly and she must have felt it, because she opened her eyes and looked up at me. And I know, I know that newborns are not able to fix their sight at one point, but I swear that Isabelle and I shared our first glance just then. Her emerald green eyes looked deeply into my chocolate brown ones and I knew that I would love to get to know this girl, to share my life with her, to be in the world around her. I felt Vaughn press a kiss on my temple and a tear rolled down my face. We were a family.

Dad ended up coming to Rome with us. He lives in a nice apartment in Via Veneto and is the most perfect grandfather. Although Isabelle is only ten months old, he has already found out dozens of ways to spoil her, and she knows how much power she has over him. I love to watch the two of them together. I think Dad is trying to have with his granddaughter what he couldn't have with me, first because of his job and then because of my mother's betrayal. For years it hurt me – not having my father present in my life; I would always hope that we could be a normal nice family, he and I. Now I know that I wouldn't trade what we have for anything. What kept us apart for so long brought us together at the right time, and the bond we created is unbreakable. Isabelle will take the best out of it and she will be our redemption.

Mom came to visit once. She stayed with Dad and he brought her to the villa one afternoon. Amélie was here – she stayed with us for six months – and Vaughn and I were worried about her reaction. The atmosphere was tense for a while, but then when I went to check on Isabelle, who was taking her nap in the nursery, I found my mother and my mother-in-law playing together with their granddaughter, smiling and exchanging funny stories about me and Vaughn when we were little. I was astonished and so was Vaughn, who stood behind me by the door frame gaping at the scene.

"This little girl is a miracle worker." he said, and I had to agree. Of course my mother and Amélie will never be friends and there will always be bitterness and awkwardness between them, but the fact is that Isabelle really makes then put everything aside.

It's her gift: she brings people together. Even Weiss, who Vaughn and I chose as her godfather, is thinking about leaving the CIA and moving back to Rome – apparently it's becoming harder and harder to convince the Agency to sponsor his monthly trips to Italy just to see us. Plus, he says the spy world is boring with Sloane and Sark in prison for life. He is trying to convince Vaughn to quit his job and become his partner in a security system design business. "Marshall will do the hard work and we will become millionaire." he says. I actually hope they go for this plan. It would be great to have Weiss close again.

I'm brought back from my distant thoughts when Vaughn carefully stands to put Isabelle down in her crib. She shifts slightly, but doesn't wake up. He turns to me with a smile.

"You were spying on us again…" he says.

"You knew I was here…" I try to sound disappointed, but my happiness betrays me, showing on my voice.

"I always know."

"Oh, because you used to be a great spy..." I tease, but only because it's true.

"No. Because I love you; I can feel it when you're close." We share a smile and a kiss.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Did you two enjoy your evening together?" I ask, leaning on the footboard of the crib and admiring my baby girl.

"Well, we missed you, but we had fun."

"Oh yes? What did you do?"

"We played hide-and-seek with Teddy the bear – he would always hide behind me, mind you…" he says with an impressively straight face and I laugh "…then we had our supper – delicious baby food – and I gave her a bath. How was your class?"

"Good. The students seem to be enjoying Fitzgerald."

"That's because you're a great professor." he smiles.

"Why, thank you!" I smile back. "Shall we have dinner? Or you're good with the baby food?"

"No! I'm hungry. I'm starving."

"Sorry. I promise my schedule will be better next semester: no classes after six." I assure him.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it." He kisses me. "Although I must say: Julia was always home for dinner. Perfect wife."

"Yeah… she was also a terrorist." I smile.

"Oh, I loved her anyway." he says, hugging me.

I nest my head on the crook of his neck and let out a deep sigh. I know he loved me; I know he always will, no matter what name, what alias I hide behind. He always finds me. We always find each other.


End file.
